


Into the Bay

by servecobwebheadaches



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Anal Plugs, Anal Sex, Angst (sometimes), BDSM, Blowjobs, Bondage, Brendon in Lingerie, Choking (vaguely mentioned), Dirty Talk, Engagement, Fluff, Humiliation, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Post-Split, Ryden, Smut, Spanking, Wedding, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 03:56:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 34,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7829536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servecobwebheadaches/pseuds/servecobwebheadaches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After such a long time of being together, it should have been an easy and smooth process for Brendon to marry Ryan.  For events to turn to be contrary of that was enough to put stress and strain on them, yet they were in love.  Brendon knew they could make it through anything.</p><p>He knew they could stay together, forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Listen...I, personally, want to marry Sarah Urie, I have nothing against her, I am in love with her, I would marry her myself...and in this universe of post split ryden, that could happen.
> 
> (Who am I kidding? Sarah deserves someone a lot better than me. Like Brendon. I love them together.)

_ What do you say, _

_ Would you marry me today? _

_ The moon would gush all inside out _

_ And my nightmares would go away _

_ -Valiant // The Spill Canvas _

 

Brendon left the house early in the morning, before seven.  Ryan had awoken with Brendon, but had fallen back to sleep before Brendon left.

Brendon wore a snapback, a plain gray t-shirt, and tight blue jeans.  He purposely dressed completely casual, since he told Ryan he was only going to buy dog food.  He didn't want to dress up at all, to avoid getting any questions from Ryan.  Ryan couldn't be suspicious of him at all—it would ruin the surprise.

Instead of going specifically to buy dog food, Brendon was on the way to a jewelers, to buy Ryan an engagement ring.

The place opened at seven thirty, and Brendon was there when they flipped over the “open” sign and unlocked the doors.  He walked in and was met with a few weird looks, at his appearance, surely, and the fact that he was in there so early in the morning.  He took it all in for a second, let it sink in that he was really going to propose, and walked straight over to a counter.  The glass display showcased bright diamond rings, and Brendon stared at them all for a moment.  He imagined getting down on one knee and presenting  _ that _ to Ryan, slipping a dazzling white and gold diamond ring on Ryan’s spindly finger.  Brendon wasn’t going to rule that possibility out just yet, thinking about how Ryan would probably force it to match with a jacket.

Assuming Ryan said yes.

Brendon smiled at the woman behind the counter.  “Good morning,” he said, and she simply blinked up at him expectantly.  He kept smiling, except in a different, more arrogant manner.  “I’m looking for engagement rings.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “that’s any ring in here.”

“I know any ring would work, but it’s for my boyfriend, and I want to know if you have anything specific.”

“Oh, the men’s section is over around that corner,” she said, finally with a twitch of her lips, like she was shooing Brendon away.

Brendon nodded, and turned away from her.  On display for the men, there wasn’t anything too eye-catching, too dazzling, but that was good.  Brendon wasn’t looking for anything obnoxious.  He knew Ryan wouldn’t like that.  The rings were mostly gold or silver, and the selection was much smaller than the diamonds and gems, but Brendon was willing to thoroughly look for something unique.  He didn’t want a boring, thin, plain gold band that would be anticlimactic when he asked Ryan to marry him.  Brendon felt that it had to fit Ryan, had to fit his personality.

He was minorly stressed with all the options, afraid he wasn't going to find what he wanted.  He was drawn towards a couple rose-gold bands with bluish silver jewels embedded in them, but it didn't feel right for the moment, again.  They suddenly didn't seem like even plausible options when he spotted rings of copper color.

With little hesitation, he bought a rusted looking copper ring with a silver streak through the middle.  The metal looked as though it was braided.  Brendon had it packaged in the small black velvet box, slipped it in his back pocket, and paid the twelve hundred dollars the damn thing costed.  He got a little shaky, already nervous about asking Ryan, and dealt with being overly jittery through the pet store when he bought dog food.

He felt nauseous, his stomach doing flips while he was in the car.  The morning rush hour LA traffic wasn't helping him.  Some of the edge was taken off his nerves when he walked in the door of his and Ryan's house.  Their dog, Bogart, scurried over to the door to jump on Brendon, making Brendon smile.  Brendon picked the small dog up, and made his way back to the bedroom.  He half expected Ryan to still be sleeping, but the water of the shower was on.

Bogart squirmed to go lay on the bed, and Brendon let him.  Brendon pulled the box out of his back pocket, and looked for a space to hide it in the drawer of his nightstand.  He rearranged the few things in there to make room for the box in the back, but the water turned off before he was done.  Freaking out, nerves still apparent, he tossed the box in the drawer with a  _ clank _ and slammed the drawer shut.

He bit his cheek when he realized Ryan definitely heard that, would probably wonder what Brendon was doing out there.  “Brendon?” Ryan's voice came from the bathroom, and Brendon choked before he could find the words.

“Yeah?” He managed.

“Just making sure that's you.”

“Yeah,” he said again.  He really needed to calm down.  If that was all he could get out, Ryan was bound to know something was up.

Brendon fidgeted for a moment before he decided what he should do.  Ryan—well, Ryan would know exactly how to take all the edge of nerves off Brendon.  He pushed open the bathroom door, to the sight of Ryan loosely tying a towel around his hips.

“Morning,” Ryan said, looking over at him.

Brendon cleared his throat.  “Good morning,” he said, putting on a smirk.  Brendon kept the close lipped, crooked smile, and stepped a bit closer to Ryan.

“What?” Ryan questioned.

Brendon shook his head.  “Nothing.” He put an arm around Ryan's neck and tangled his fingers in Ryan's dripping hair, from the back of his head.  After a short, gazing eye contact, Brendon tipped Ryan's head to connect their lips.  He could feel Ryan's lips curve in a smile against his.

“I hate it when you leave before I wake up,” Ryan said, an arm around Brendon's waist and a hand splayed across his back.

“Sorry,” Brendon said.  He pulled Ryan in for another kiss, not wanting to come across as too desperate, yet.

Ryan's eyes seemed a bit brighter when they parted, lips parted in a breathless smile.  Brendon couldn't help but wonder if he would get that look when he proposed.  “So what else do you have planned for today?” Ryan asked, amusement in his voice.

Brendon could hardly think of anything casual, and shook his head slightly.  “Uh, I don't know . . . take the dogs out . . . somewhere . . .” It was vague, but Brendon had a point to get across, didn't really want to change the subject.

Ryan ran his fingertips up Brendon's spine, only a little bit, and Brendon nearly shivered.  “Okay, let me get dressed and I'll come with you,” Ryan said.

It was almost too easy for Brendon to get what he wanted.  “No,” he simply said.

“No? You don't want me to come with you?” Ryan said, indignant.

“I don't want you to get dressed,” Brendon corrected.

“Ah,” Ryan said, hands finding their way to Brendon's hips, pulling his body closer.  “That's not a problem at all.”

Brendon felt lucky to know that he would get his way, with just a few words.  He felt lucky to know that Ryan liked morning sex, or that Ryan just liked sex with him.  And they would never get sick of it.

It was unhurried and smooth, as they kissed again, Ryan licking into Brendon's mouth.  Ryan's fingers felt more soothing to Brendon than the roughness he knew they were capable of.  Ryan broke the kiss to slowly pull Brendon's shirt over his head, but Brendon quickly reconnected their lips.  Brendon began rolling his hips against Ryan's, getting some friction against Ryan's hardening cock.  He shivered when Ryan ran his hands down Brendon's sides, dipping his fingers into the waistband of Brendon's jeans.  Brendon stilled, only a bit impatiently, for Ryan to take his pants off for him.  Without looking down, Brendon worked the knot undone of the towel around Ryan's hips.

“Please,” Brendon breathed into Ryan's lips, arms around his neck again.

Ryan nodded, and grabbed Brendon's waist, kissing him.  Brendon stumbled backwards into the bedroom, Ryan guiding him, and fell back on the bed.  Droplets of water still dripped down Ryan's skin and onto the sheets, then onto Brendon when he crawled between Brendon's legs.  Brendon took his time to pull Ryan down for another kiss, before Ryan fumbled for lube out of his nightstand.  They’d ditched condoms long ago after they'd both been determined clean, and of course hadn't slept with anyone else.  Brendon couldn't deny that he loved the feeling of just  _ Ryan _ in him.

Brendon laid mostly still underneath Ryan, to the best of his ability, while Ryan slipped two slicked fingers into him.  He shut out any other thoughts when Ryan slipped a third in, because Ryan's fingers were fucking bliss, and Ryan wouldn't ever let him forget it.

Brendon's eyes fluttered closed.  He couldn't bring himself to look when Ryan kissed his inner thigh.  Ryan's lazy gentleness didn't subside, even when he replaced his fingers with his cock.  It was perfect for Brendon's mood; relaxing how he didn't need to be filled with desperation.  His back arched with the familiar shock of pleasure, Ryan brushing Brendon's prostate with every deliberate thrust.

Naturally, it was the best way to take Brendon's mind off his nerves.  Brendon's cock was hard and flushed against his pale stomach, but he could last for awhile longer, at the rate Ryan was going.  Before he left the house that morning, he’d wanted this—the good morning greeting of a good fuck.  But purchasing the engagement ring completely distracted him.  Now, it was the other way around.  Brendon nearly forgot the ring sitting in a drawer next to the bed—Ryan groaned, lips brushing Brendon's neck—his nerves at bay.  Brendon needed this, needed how Ryan could make him not think about anything else.

Ryan came first, with a quiet, broken moan near Brendon's ear.  Brendon grappled at the sheets with Ryan's fingers curling around his cock, stroking him off.  Everything went fuzzy in Brendon's line of vision, Ryan's thumb flicking over the head of his cock.  Suddenly feeling overly hot and sensitive, Brendon let go, coming over Ryan's hand.  He let out an airy whine, his hips bucking up once, and then fully sunk into the mattress.  He felt warm and relieved, even when Ryan pulled out of him and laid his head on Brendon's chest.

“We better shower again, you know,” Brendon said.

“You're right.  Dammit, Brendon,” Ryan sighed, but Brendon could tell he was amused.  Brendon knew how to read Ryan's voice.  He’d learned every emotion and every variation in Ryan's tones—some that were only meant for Brendon to ever hear.  Brendon felt like he knew Ryan so well, even if, for whatever reason, Ryan decided to be vague and put up walls around himself.  And Brendon wanted it, wanted to solve the mysteries behind Ryan Ross if he hadn't figured them all out already, wanted to learn how to read Ryan's thoughts and not just his voice.

He was ready to have the rest of his life with Ryan.

Brendon's stomach dropped, and he stopped the circular movement of his fingers on Ryan's shoulder—he hadn't even realized he was touching Ryan.  Ryan looked expectantly in the direction of Brendon's hand, and Brendon blinked a few times and continued the light massage.  Ryan hummed contently and closed his eyes, damp hair cold on Brendon's bare chest.

Brendon cleared his throat, grounded once more upon looking at Ryan.  “Come on, love, we really shouldn't sleep the day away,” he said.  When Ryan didn't move, Brendon playfully shoved him off his chest and got out of bed.

Ryan didn't immediately follow him, and Brendon ended up zoning out of the present moment as he stepped in the shower.  Sure, he could read Ryan, knew nearly everything there was to know about him, but he didn't know—and there was no way to tell—how Ryan would feel about getting married.  Brendon questioned his confidence, and even considered running out and returning the ring to the jewelers for a moment.

He needed to calm down before Ryan noticed and got concerned.

Seriously, he wasn't planning to propose for another two weeks.

<<<<<>>>>>

The next two weeks passed unreasonably slow, for Brendon at least.  He would plan out what he wanted to say, get confident with it, and then want to propose to Ryan on the spot.  Yet it would have been nearly impossible, as Ryan was hardly home.

It was strange timing, the whole thing.  When they were off tour, most of their time was spent at home, and together, Ryan and Brendon could relax.  They were off tour, luckily, but a bunch of work found Ryan and was all crammed into those two weeks.  He flew to Chicago for three days to do an interview with Jon,  and had a photoshoot in Vegas for a magazine that had nothing to do with the band.  Brendon stayed home, spending most of his time attempting to write, but ended up thinking more about  _ marrying _ Ryan.  By the time Ryan was due to arrive back home, Brendon had an entire speech mentally written and memorized.  That was what gave Brendon contradictory feelings about Ryan being gone—of course, Brendon missed him terribly, night after night of him being away, but it gave him time to pull himself together so he didn't seem different to Ryan.

It also severely tempted Brendon to take the ring with him when he picked Ryan up from the airport, so he could propose right there in the airport parking lot.  It wouldn't be at all a romantic place, but Brendon was getting anxious to finally ask him.

The ring stayed unmoving in Brendon's drawer, and it was only Ryan, an embrace, and a short kiss that met Brendon at the airport.  Nothing to be nervous about.  “I missed you,” Ryan said, while they got in the car.  He sat on the driver’s side, but didn't start the car.

“I missed you, too,” Brendon said.

“I brought you something back,” Ryan said, watching Brendon's face for a few seconds.

“You did?” Brendon asked.

“Yeah, uh—” Ryan reached into the backseat, to grab his bag.  “It's nothing much, but, um, here,” he said, while rummaging through his things.  He handed Brendon a CD with writing on it in black marker—Ryan's handwriting—that said, “ _ To: Brendon, Songs That Will Get You Through the Day.” _

It looked familiar, although it may have just been Brendon being used to seeing Ryan's scrawling words all the time, but Brendon couldn't place it.  He couldn't think of why Ryan would burn him a CD of all things, bring it all the way from Vegas, but it probably meant something, especially coming from Ryan.  “Thanks?” Brendon said; a question with a raised eyebrow.

“It's probably stupid.  Okay, you probably don't remember, so let me explain.  So somehow, Spencer’s family found out I was gonna be in Vegas for a couple days, so they decided to invite me over.  So, um, we all met up at Spence’s grandparents’ house—you know, where our old practice space used to be?  And they were all talking about how good it is to see me—Spencer's parents, sister, grandma—and how we haven't seen them in, like, a really long time.  Then at some point, they showed me the little place where we used to have our practices, and it's basically just an empty room now in the back of the house, but there was still some stuff in there.  And I found this thing—” Ryan pointed to the CD between Brendon's fingers “—that I'd forgotten about, and thought maybe you’d want it back, finally.”

Brendon cringed at himself, inwardly, because he couldn't remember what the meaning was behind the CD, and it was obviously something that stuck out to Ryan.  “I'm sorry, but what's the story behind it?” He asked, with a wince, hoping he didn't hurt Ryan's feelings or anything like that.

“Before we met Pete and definitely before we got together, you complained about being bored at work or being tired when doing your homework or whatever, so I made you a CD to listen to.  And you kept it for a day, then brought it back to me, and we got in our first little fight.  I got all bitchy and offended that you didn't like it, because I spent a lot of time on it, and you didn't want anything extra to carry around, so . . . I guess we just ended up leaving it there?  But I don't know, I really wanted you to listen to it.” He scratched back of his neck.  “It's kind of meaningful, I guess.  And now, I think you should keep it, see if you actually like any of it, especially since we’re together now.  Maybe it'll get the message across again, how I feel about you.  I remember a bit of it, and I think it's all pretty much me relating these songs to how I felt about you, even way back then.”

Brendon exhaled.  “That's really sweet, Ryan, wow,” he said after a few minutes.  He was touched that Ryan would do something like that for him, and not even think about it, just casually present it.  “Let's listen to it.” He slipped the CD in the car stereo, and listened as the sounds of heavy electric guitar and barely intelligible screaming filled the car.

He couldn't really be surprised with the music Ryan knew as a teenager, but he could laugh and tease Ryan about it as much as he wanted.  “This is how you feel about me, huh?”  A blush creeped up Ryan's cheeks.  “‘Cause I make you scream, baby?”

Ryan huffed beside him.

“Honestly, I don't feel bad for giving this shit back to you.  I've never been a fan of unorganized yelling that I can't even understand.”

“Oh, it's not that bad,” Ryan brushed off, and skipped the song.

The sky was a deep purple and pink with the late sunset while they drove home, the traffic of the city starting to lighten up a bit.  The music got better, Brendon had to admit, with Ryan's typical music taste seeping into the track listing.  Aside from one of them quietly humming along from time to time, it was silent in the car while they listened.

Brendon's confidence was brought up about proposing, as he got in the mindset that of course Ryan would say yes, no questions asked about it.  Ryan had no reason to reject marrying Brendon—Brendon knew Ryan loved him, knew Ryan wasn't planning on them splitting up at any given point in time.  He had nothing to worry about.

He still had another week before proposing, which meant nothing but seven more days to start overthinking things.  The day after Ryan came home, Brendon made the reservations to the highest class place he knew, in the city.  When Ryan questioned Brendon's reasoning, Brendon just said he'd missed Ryan too much while he was gone, and that they needed a night alone.  Ryan made sure he didn't have any plans that night, and it was all perfectly planned.

Brendon tried to tell himself he’d calmed down.  He hadn't.

Come the night before he was going to propose, his nerves were uncontrollably bad.  Through dinner, he kept accidentally spacing out what Ryan was saying to him, because he was mentally rehearsing what he was going to say when he proposed.  “B?  Hey, Brendon?” Ryan said, snapping Brendon out of his daze.

“What?  Sorry.”

Ryan hesitated before asking, “Are you feeling okay?  You've been quiet all night.”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.  What did you say?”

“I was just asking when our reservations are tomorrow . . .?”

“Six thirty,” Brendon said, before realizing it came out too quickly.

If he couldn't even act normal for simple conversation with Ryan, how was he going to make it through asking Ryan to marry him?  He could stutter, mess up the words he so carefully planned to say—that was likely.  He imagined every minuscule mistake he could make, like tripping before he got down on one knee in front of Ryan, or not being able to get the box open, or slipping the ring on the wrong finger of Ryan's.  Hell, what if Ryan didn't like the ring?  What if it was the wrong size?  Brendon was sure he bought the ring in the right size, he had to have made sure of it, but he was questioning every little detail about the proposal.  In his mind, it had to be absolutely perfect, or it wouldn't be good enough.

After dinner, Brendon was mindlessly flipping through Netflix, waiting for Ryan to do the dishes.  Brendon always cooked; Ryan always cleaned—whenever they were staying in for the night.  Brendon eventually dropped the remote on the couch and sighed, staring off at a wall.  In less than twenty four hours, he would be asking Ryan to commit to him for the rest of his life, holy shit, and he had never been more nervous in his life.

Quite shaky, he blinked out of his daze yet again, Ryan bringing him out of it.  Brendon felt Ryan's weight sinking into the couch next to him.  “Babe, are you sure you're okay? You seem pretty out of it tonight.”

“I'm just tired,” Brendon swallowed.

“If you wanna go to bed now, that's okay.  It's kinda late, anyway, I'll come with you.”

“Yeah,” Brendon nodded, “that would be nice.”

“Okay,” Ryan accepted.  Brendon didn't move at first, but looked into Ryan's round eyes for a moment.  He was always entranced by them, with their light brown shade, flecked with green and gold.  He woke up every morning to those eyes, lit up with a smile only for him.  Brendon had a hard time looking away sometimes.  He cleared his throat and slowly stood up.  “Let me know if you need anything . . .” Ryan said, walking with Brendon back to their bedroom.

“I'm alright.”

While Brendon changed into sweatpants, Ryan took off the throw pillows and pulled back the sheets of the bed Brendon neatly made every morning.  Ryan stood next to the bed when Brendon came back into the bedroom.  Brendon didn't think much of it and crawled in bed anyway.  Ryan hovered for a moment, and asked, “Are you sure you don't need anything?”

Brendon really considered for a moment, thinking of initiating a night of sex before sleep; again, to relieve nerves.  It wasn't that the nervousness aroused him, but it gave him motivation to pursue his lust, more of a distraction than anything at first.  He decided against it, not wanting to be sloppy and thoughtless.

“Yeah, thanks,” he finally said.

Ryan nodded, and laid down beside Brendon.  Brendon closed his eyes in the dark, only for his thoughts to be overcome with anxiousness.  He ran through his speech mentally again, and worried about what would happen after he uttered the question.

What if he caused too much of a scene in the restaurant, and embarrassed Ryan?  What if Ryan didn't think what he said was heartfelt?  And worst of all—what if Ryan said  _ no _ ?  Then what would he do?  If their relationship ended right there because Ryan didn't want to take things that far, and that was the end of their time together, it would kill Brendon.  What if it was the last time he went on a date with Ryan?  What if it was the last time he slept in the same bed with Ryan?  What if that was the last time he could've had sex with Ryan?  What if—?

“Brendon, sweetheart,  _ what _ is it?”  Brendon felt Ryan's fingers curl over his knee, under the covers.  He stilled, realizing he'd been fidgeting, messing with the sheets, tossing and turning.  “What's wrong?”

“I just—” Brendon fumbled for a lie.  “—I just feel like I’m nervous.”

“Nervous?  About what?”

“I don't know, like—” He sat up on his elbows. “—the whole time you were gone, I was trying to write, and—” He laid back down on his side, facing Ryan.  “—I couldn't get anything done.  I'm scared of hitting a permanent writer’s block, you know?  Like what if I couldn't write anything else ever, or—”

Ryan laughed softly beside him.  “That's not gonna happen, B.  You're a great writer, I know you have it in you somewhere.”

“Yeah, but what if I can't get it out?”

Ryan threw an arm over Brendon's waist.  “It'll be fine.”  Brendon didn't say anything, but tucked his face in Ryan's neck.  “Is it really bothering you?”

“Yeah, it really is,” Brendon mumbled, though he really wasn't thinking about it at all.

“It'll come to you.  It will,” Ryan said, trying to be comforting.

“I guess.”

“Don't lose sleep over it,” Ryan said, and kissed the top of Brendon's head.  “It's not worth it.”

“No, I won't.  I'm pretty tired.”  He knew Ryan would be likely to say something sweet and romantic, but that would put Brendon more on edge.  “I'll feel better in the morning.”

“I hope so.”

Brendon pressed himself closer to Ryan, and closed his eyes, focusing on staying still and not being too jittery.  Ryan's arm around him helped with that.  “Sorry to be all weird about that,” Brendon said, with a hint of a laugh.

“You're fine.”

“I'm gonna fall asleep, now,” Brendon stated.  “Goodnight.”

“Yeah, me too.  Goodnight, then, lover.”

Ryan fell asleep first, and Brendon followed soon after, though it was restless.  He jolted out of a half-sleep every couple hours, but fully woke up at dawn, immediately getting hit with nerves.  He had less than eight hours before proposing.

For whatever reason, as if it would help, Brendon feigned sleep and stayed in bed until the late hours of the morning.  It must have been convincing enough to Ryan, because Brendon could tell he was purposefully being quiet when he got out of bed.  Ryan deliberately slipped his arm off of Brendon's waist, and drew the covers over Brendon's torso again.  Before completely getting up, Ryan stroked one side of Brendon's hair, just one brush of his fingertips before he was gone.  Brendon felt warm inside with the loving gesture; he couldn't help but wonder if Ryan was like that every morning when Brendon was asleep later than him.

Brendon eventually got out of bed, and shuffled out into the living room in his night clothes.  Ryan was sitting on the couch with Bogart in his lap, and a game controller between his hands.  A cup of coffee was still steaming on the table next to him.  His eyes were trained on the screen, until Brendon slipped his hands over his shoulders.

Ryan only startled slightly, and paused his game, turning his head to look at Brendon.  “I left you some cereal,” Ryan stated, watching Brendon rub his eyes.

“Thanks,” Brendon said.

The day passed as a blur to Brendon.  He couldn't think straight if he tried to do something; kept realizing what he was going to do.  Ryan got ready for dinner before Brendon, dressing in a beige colored suit and combing his hair.  He put on black rimmed glasses and knotted his tie.  “Dressy enough?” He asked Brendon.

Brendon nodded and pecked Ryan on the lips.  “Gorgeous,” he confirmed.

While Brendon pulled on the jacket of his own suit, he remembered, because he'd forgotten, that he needed the ring with him.  He had to figure out how to slip it in his pocket without Ryan noticing.  “Babe?  Will you take Bogart out before we leave?”  The dog typically trailed behind Brendon, everywhere he went, and he perked up at the word “out.”

“Yeah.  Hey, Bogart, let’s go,” Ryan said, and the dog bounded after him.

While they were outside, Brendon tucked the ring in the pocket of his pants, and exhaled, attempting to get rid of the nerves.

On the way to the restaurant, conversation was normal—complaining about traffic, talking more in detail about Ryan's trip to Chicago and Vegas.  Brendon managed, keeping up by thinking,  _ it's only Ryan, it's only Ryan _ .  When they sat down, Brendon felt hyper-aware of his movements, of Ryan's movements, and his stomach was swooping.  He felt light-headed, and started shaking his ankle, crossed over his knee.

Off the menu, he picked what he thought would be the smallest meal, so he could hurry up and get over his nerves.

Brendon's hands began shaking while he ate, and tried to talk about the food, the wine they ordered.  It was only feeble.

Their plates were cleared, and Brendon exhaled shakily.  There was nothing stopping him now; he could start talking at any point.  “Brendon, will you just tell me what's wrong?  You're making me anxious, just watching you,” Ryan said.

“I . . .” Brendon gulped.  “Ryan—” His voice was weak, quivering.

Ryan leaned forward, locking his fingers on the table.  “What—”

“I have something to tell you.”  Brendon's heart was pounding, and he could hear it, feel it in his temples.

“Okay,” Ryan said slowly, expectantly.

“I don't . . . just really sit and talk to you about things like this anymore, and that's a bit beneficial, because I need to make, um, a point right now.  I've loved you for such a long time, and I don't ever feel like I've gotten over it.”  Brendon looked up from his hands and into Ryan's eyes—Ryan was listening intently.  “I still can't really believe how lucky I am.  You're the love of my life, I know that.  It's like . . . whenever we go on stage, I still get that bit of a rush, you know?  And, I don't know—” Brendon allowed himself a smile. “—I still feel like that all the time when I'm with you.” He grinned bashfully up at Ryan.  “I know it'll be like that forever.”

Ryan shook his head slightly, confused but smiling with Brendon.  Brendon gulped.

“So, Ryan Ross—” He took a breath, pulled the ring out of his pocket, and got down on one knee, next to Ryan. “—will you marry me?” He managed to open the box as he said it.  It went smoothly, for which Brendon was grateful.

“Brendon, of course, yes, I'll  _ marry  _ you,” Ryan said, in shock.  Ryan's voice was choppy, looking at Brendon in utter awe; disbelief.  He smiled down at Brendon, who reached for Ryan's left hand.  Brendon's fingers shook, adrenaline still high in his body, taking hold of the ring and slipping it on Ryan's fourth finger.  Ryan watched him, then stood, still holding Brendon's hand, helping him up.  Brendon couldn't believe he actually did it, and Ryan said yes; he was euphoric.  Ryan cupped Brendon's cheek with his newly ring-clad hand, pressing their lips together in a short kiss that still meant the world to Brendon.

Some people in the restaurant had been watching them, and were clapping, applauding at the proposal.  Their dinner was free aside from the wine.

Ryan couldn't stop grinning at Brendon the whole way home, sneaking glances in the car.  “I'm excited, B,” Ryan gushed.

“Me too,” Brendon said.  “I can relax now that you said yes.”

“You were really nervous, weren't you?  That's funny.”

“Yes, I was nervous.  I didn't know . . .”

“And I didn't know you were gonna propose.  I didn't even know you were thinking about getting married.”

“Yeah, I mean, I didn't know how you felt about it, so that's mainly why I was so fucking nervous.”

Ryan shook his head.  “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

At home, Ryan examined the ring, approvingly.  “Where's yours?” He asked Brendon.

“I didn't buy one.  I was too afraid, I didn't want to be overly confident.”

“You?  Unconfident? No way,” Ryan said, and leaned in to give Brendon a deeper kiss, since they were alone.

“We’re engaged,” Brendon breathed.  He took Ryan's hand to look at the ring himself, see how fitting it was on Ryan's hand.  “You know, I thought about buying you a diamond for a few minutes until I found this.”

“I wouldn't mind.”  Ryan slipped his right hand around Brendon's waist.  “Engaged,” he repeated.  “Getting married.  Do you want to post something and break the Internet?”

“Let's do it.”

Ryan held his phone, camera on, and Brendon stood behind him, arms wrapped around his waist and chin hooked over his shoulder.  Ryan presented the ring on his finger, and beamed; Brendon smiled with closed lips, eyes obviously casted on Ryan.  Brendon stayed enveloped around Ryan while he posted the picture on his Instagram, with the caption, “Of course I'll say yes to you, @brendonurie.”  He shut his phone off and tossed it on the couch before the comments could blow up.

Brendon kissed Ryan's neck once, twice, getting his full attention back.  Ryan's hands covered Brendon's over his abdomen, and he tilted his head to give Brendon's lips more space to kiss.  Brendon could practically sense the ecstatic energy flowing through Ryan, and it just made Brendon happier.

Ryan spun around in Brendon's arms to catch his lips again, hands habitually finding their way to Brendon's hips.  His teeth skimmed Brendon's lips, parted for Ryan's tongue; Brendon let out a soft sigh, fingers curling around the collar of Ryan's suit jacket.  Brendon leaned into Ryan at Ryan squeezing his hips a bit tighter.

All Brendon had to do was move his hips once against Ryan's, for Ryan to murmur, “Bed. Now.”

<<<<<>>>>>

“So, Brendon,” Ryan said, sitting down beside Brendon with beers, “you want to get married.”

Brendon took his beer and nodded.  “I do,” he smirked.

“Why?  Like, what suddenly inspired it?”

“I don't know,” Brendon said after a bit of hesitation.

“No?”

“I love you.  I want to be with you till the day I die.  I don't think there's any better . . . display of that than getting married.”

“That's sweet, but we don't need to get married to do that,” Ryan said.  Brendon's face fell a bit, getting the notion that maybe Ryan didn't want to get married, maybe he had only said yes to appease Brendon, maybe— “Hey, I'm not saying we shouldn't get married, that's not what I mean at all,” Ryan hastily said, after seeing the look on Brendon's face.  Ryan draped an arm over Brendon's shoulders, gazing at him.  “I'm just wondering . . .”

“I don't want to worry,” Brendon said.  “I don't want to worry about us splitting up.  I don't really worry about it much now, because I don't think we have a lot of problems or anything, I just wanna bind it even more.”

“I don't ever want to be without you, so I can see it,” Ryan nodded.

“I want to get old with you.  Really.  I want to be more comfortable in our relationship, I guess.”

“What do you mean?  You're not comfortable now?”

“No, I mean, I am, I just . . . I want to be able to introduce you as my spouse, not my boyfriend.  It just sounds more permanent, I don't want this to seem like it could end.  I don't know what I'd do.  I want to be that old married couple one day, but only if it's me with you.  I want to have years and years of memories with you, and just have it be really solid.  We can be stuck together and get gray and keep aging and call each other, ‘dear,’ and, ‘pumpkin,’ but it'll be okay.  I want it.  I'm asking for it,” Brendon spilled.

Ryan sipped his beer with his eyes still trained on Brendon.  “Well,  _ pumpkin _ ,” Ryan said, running a finger down Brendon's cheek, “you don't have to worry about this ever ending.”

“I was scared,” Brendon admitted.  “I was scared, before I asked you, that it would be too much.”

“What would be too much?”

“Asking you to marry me.  It's probably stupid, but I just thought maybe it would be too much and you'd break up with me.  Like, it could've totally gone the opposite way, and that freaked me out.”

“That's why you were so off the last couple nights?”

“Yeah,” Brendon answered.

“You thought I might break up with you? Oh, lover, there's no way . . .”

Brendon shrugged, leaning into Ryan's arm around him.

“We’ve been through so much together; it would be almost impossible to tear us apart.  Especially not with something like this.” 

Brendon wouldn't ever get over how soothing Ryan was to him, how perfect his words were, his voice.  Ryan was Brendon's comfort, over everything.  “I was terrified, I don't know,” Brendon said.  “I probably made a bigger deal out of it than I needed to.”

Ryan kissed his temple.  “It is a big deal. It is.  But I want to marry you.  I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”  He nudged Brendon's knee with his own.  “These—how long has it been? Eight years?—it's not enough.”

Eight years, Brendon figured, was enough security in their relationship to get married.  Brendon exhaled.  “It's not,” Brendon agreed.

“So, did you start planning anything?” Ryan asked.  “Have anything in mind for a . . . wedding?”  He used the word carefully, testing it, the concept still foreign to him.

“To be honest,” Brendon said, “I haven't thought that far.”

Ryan smiled widely at that, to Brendon's surprise.  “Then we’ve got a lot of work to do,” he said.

<<<<<>>>>>

Ryan was right.  Soon after their engagement, everyone was calling them, asking for all the details, when the big day was.  One night, they had four consecutive phone calls from people they knew, passing the phone between each other to talk.  As Brendon told yet another person that they really didn't know when they were getting married, he looked wide-eyed at Ryan.

“What're we gonna do?” He asked, tossing his phone on the bed and throwing himself down on the pillows.

“Maybe we should start thinking about it some,” Ryan suggested, sarcastic.

“Yeah.  Maybe.”

“Yeah, so.  So.  When do you want to get married?”  Ryan habitually tapped over his engagement ring, rubbing the metal.

“When we have our shit together,” Brendon muttered.

“Mm.  That would be nice.  Zack asked if we were having an engagement party,” Ryan said.

Brendon raised his eyebrows and nodded.  “That might not actually be a bad idea.”

“I thought you might want one, after he brought that up.”

“It could help.  Like, some of our friends might be able to help us get it together or something.”

“Yeah,” Ryan breathed, and he sounded in utter awe.  “I—I think,” he stuttered, “it should be small.”

“The party or the wedding?” Brendon asked, eager to hear Ryan's ideas.

“Uh, well, both.”

“Yeah, yeah, that's good—”

“Maybe it can kinda just be the people who're close to us.”

“That would make sense,” Brendon agreed.

“I think it should be private when I tie myself to you forever,” Ryan whispered, reaching over to lace his fingers with Brendon's.

Brendon smiled.  “That's a nice thought,” he said.

“Isn't it?”

“Everyone will want to be there, though, since we’ve already made it public that it's happening.”

“There are ways around that,” Ryan mused.

“We just won't send out any invitations,” Brendon joked.

“We’ll only invite people to the engagement party who we want at the wedding.  That'll make it easier.”

“Should we start making a list?”

“Yeah, yeah.”  Ryan let go of Brendon's hand to search through the drawer of his nightstand of a pen and notepad.  They both kept writing supplies on either side of the bed, just in case something—some idea—popped up during the night.

Both of them began listing off people, quickly filling a whole page.  When they ran out of people, there were close to a hundred names written down.  “This is a lot,” Brendon said.

“This is.  We can go through it again and start narrowing it down more,” Ryan said.

“Um.  Let's do it tomorrow.  This is just, like, a lot to think about right now.”

“Sure,” Ryan said, seeing how flustered Brendon was, how overwhelmed with the reality.

“Let's, uh, go to bed.”

“Yeah.”  Brendon couldn't help but notice the twitch of Ryan's lips as he looked at the list one more time.  He was delighted with the concept of getting married, and Brendon was relieved Ryan wasn't the one feeling overwhelmed.

Ryan stretched to flick a lamp off, and Brendon could hear the rustle of Ryan laying down beside him.  With Ryan's hand searching in the sheets for his, Brendon reached out to lace their fingers together in the dark.  Ryan squeezed his knuckles once, let the grip fall loose, and kissed the corner of Brendon's mouth.

They fell asleep with their palms lightly resting together, fingertips brushing.

With cleared minds in the morning, Ryan and Brendon looked over the list of names again, and put their heads down to work.  Although it took awhile, they carded through everyone and got it down to roughly twenty—enough so their marriage would be witnessed, but a small amount to keep it private.

“Should we send out invitations, or just call people?” Brendon asked.

“I think it'll be easier if we just call people, for the party, at least.  For the actual wedding, we can send out something more formal,” Ryan said.

“We need to figure out what we’re even doing for the party,” Brendon realized.

“Mm hmm,” Ryan said, like he already knew.

Brendon thought Ryan might have a plan he hadn't shared yet.  He wasn't wrong.

Their engagement party was set to be exactly one month since Brendon proposed.  Several people on their list couldn't make it due to the travel it would put them through, or other plans that were already made.  So, it wasn't a big gathering at all, with few people.

The number of people was so minimal that they simply held it in their home, between their kitchen and backyard.  There was beer and wine and Ryan and, “everything else that is good,” Brendon said.  His engagement to Ryan wasn't even the focus of the party—there wasn't really even a focus.  He didn't stay glued to Ryan's side the whole time, there were no declarations of love, and very little talk of the wedding that was bound to come now.

Only one person asked if they were hiring a wedding planner, to which Brendon said no.  That settled that, and Ryan agreed with him.

Brendon determined that the main focus of the party was, as always with him, the partying.  After a few beers, Brendon startled at the feeling of Ryan's fingers touching his waist.  “Hey,” Ryan said, lowly, “be careful.  We have a long day tomorrow.”

He knew Ryan was right, that he should take heed to the warning and not keep up drinking with everyone else.  They had to be up early for a flight to Salt Lake City, where they were booked to play a show and have a couple radio interviews—all in one day.  Yet Brendon would admit he could be reckless at times, and he lost track of how many beers he had before the night was done, ending up pleasantly drunk.

There was certainly no talk of wedding plans.

After everyone had gone home, Ryan casted a look to Brendon from across the yard with a fond eye-roll.  Brendon attempted to pick up a few plates laying out on the table, however he could not strategize it properly.  He appreciated it when Ryan aided him by taking the dishes.

Ryan ended up doing all the cleanup, no matter what Brendon's protests were.  It wasn't so bad—just a lot of dishes to be done—but Brendon was still sober and awake enough to help him.  “B, just go to bed,” Ryan said.  “It's already one in the morning, we’ve gotta be up in four hours.”

“It's fine.  I can stay up—”

“You're gonna need more sleep than me tonight.  I'll be in there in a few minutes, okay?  You cooked tonight, anyway.”

Brendon resigned to bed, internally grateful Ryan was cleaning up.  He felt drowsy with the alcohol, but found that when he laid down, he didn't doze off as soon as he thought he would.  His eyes stayed open in the dark, listening to the dishes clanking out in the kitchen faintly.

He guessed he just had a hard time sleeping when Ryan wasn't next to him.  When Ryan had been gone for a few days before Brendon proposed, he wrote it off as the lack of sleep being from nerves, but he was starting to think he was so accustomed to laying next to Ryan every night, maybe he couldn't sleep without him.

He smiled to himself at the thought that he would rarely have to for the rest of his days.

His eyelids were just starting to droop, he was just starting to slip from consciousness, when the door creaked open, and an inch of light and a silhouette creeped into the room.  “Ryan . . .?” Brendon asked, just to be sure.

“It's just me, sweetheart,” Ryan confirmed.

Brendon laid on his side, hazily watching Ryan turn on the bathroom light and change his clothes.  He had his back to Brendon, pulling his shirt up and over his head, undoing his belt and dropping his pants to the ground.  Brendon still admired him, how beautiful he was, how lucky he was that Ryan wanted him.

Ryan brushed his teeth and combed his hair shortly, so it wouldn't be too hard to handle in the morning.  He glanced at Brendon, raising his eyebrows when he saw Brendon's eyes were still open.  “Still awake?” He asked, turning the light off in the bathroom.

“Yeah.  It's harder to sleep without you,” Brendon said.

“It's the same way for me.”  Ryan didn't round the bed to get in, but pushed himself over Brendon with a swing of his legs, a vault of sorts.  He wrapped an arm tightly around Brendon, scooping him up to pull him against his chest.  Brendon chuckled a little bit and let Ryan spoon him.  “I set an alarm for us,” Ryan said.

“Thank you.”

“Mm hmm.”

Brendon didn't remember when he fell asleep, but he awoke to bright light and Ryan's voice.  His head hurt, and he was way too tired to immediately get out of bed.  “Brendon, you slept through the alarm, we gotta get going,” Ryan urged.

Blearily, he squinted to see Ryan was already dressed.  He groaned and threw the covers back, grudgingly getting out of bed.  “What time is it?” He asked.

“It's five forty five.  We need to be out in fifteen minutes.”

Brendon rushed getting ready, though his head was pounding and he just wanted to get back in bed.  Zack picked them up so they only had to park one car at the airport.

It was still dark outside when they left, and the only thing stopping Brendon from collapsing on the couch to sleep for a few more hours was Ryan's hand on his back, guiding him to some coffee and out the door.

Ryan carried their bags, putting them in the trunk of the car.  He took the passenger seat and gave Brendon the back, so Brendon could possibly get some rest before facing the airport.  Brendon winced at the car doors slamming shut, cradling his coffee.  At the point where it was only painful to hold his head up, Brendon rested his forehead against the window next to him, the cool glass almost soothing.

“What's wrong with you?” Zack asked, peering in the mirror to look at Brendon.

Brendon began lifting his head with a grimace until Ryan answered for him.  “Nursing a hangover, huh, Brendon?  He didn't stop drinking until one in the morning.”

“I'm surprised you're not back there catering to his every want, Ryan.  Like normal,” Zack said.

Brendon could hear the sarcasm in Ryan's voice when he said, “This was his own damn fault.  I warned him.”  To prove to Zack that everything was normal, Ryan continued, “Yeah, this morning I was taking care of him.  Got him everything he would want to help him.”

“Besides some painkillers,” Brendon mumbled.

“In your jacket pocket,” Ryan replied, nonchalantly.  Brendon reached in his jacket pocket to find two Tylenol pills, which Brendon didn't hesitate to gulp down with his coffee.

Ryan was the best.

Brendon favored drinking his coffee over sleeping, to get the caffeine and sugar rush.  Ryan and Zack were generally quiet for Brendon's sake, although his headache was fading.  He was still exhausted, even after his coffee was gone.

Ryan took the bags again, dealing with them through security.  Brendon followed him, head down, the lights and commotion of the airport being too much all at once.

“Hanging in there?” Ryan asked.

“I'm tired,” Brendon said.

“I know, lover.  Hopefully you can sleep for a bit on the plane.”

“Maybe.”

Brendon thought Ryan was being maybe a bit over the top when he bought Brendon a blanket at the airport.  “Ryan, it's fine, I don't need—”

Ryan scoffed.  “You're gonna be cold on the plane whether you sleep or not.  Let me buy this for you.”

“Really, don't worry about it.”

All too seriously, Ryan cupped Brendon's cheek and said, “Brendon.  You bought me an engagement ring.  Now I'm going to buy you a fucking blanket because you're tired.  And you need to rest so you don't get sick before the show tonight.”

“Alright.  Whatever you say,” Brendon accepted.

He ended up being thankful for it on the flight, when he did fall asleep.  He curled up with it in his seat; protecting him from the blasts of cool air that seemed to flow directly to him.

Later, when they were off the plane, Brendon found that Ryan had snapped a few pictures of him and posted them on Twitter while he was sleeping.  He huffed at the comments coming through on his phone, flipped Ryan off, and told him to fucking stop, it wasn't funny, but he couldn't help but smile with Ryan's soft laughter.

Brendon was awake and full of energy by the time they were setting up for the show.  There were no complications, just a normal run through, with thousands of screaming people and some adrenaline running through Brendon's veins.

It was still like being submerged underwater when he looked at Ryan—everything became muffled and calm, some peaceful aura finding Brendon from seeing his fiancé strumming away at his guitar with a cocked hip.  His fiancé.  Brendon randomly grinned throughout the set.  Ryan calmed Brendon, but made his blood rush at the same time, made his stomach flip yet eased any tight nerves.

And he didn't even know he was doing that.

Walking backstage after the show, Spencer draped an arm around Brendon's shoulders while Ryan fiddling with slipping his engagement ring back on behind them.  “Good show tonight,” Spencer said.

“Yeah, that one went really well,” Jon agreed.

“Ryan, you seemed happy,” Spencer commented.

“Yeah, well . . .” Ryan chuckled and caught Brendon's eye, to which Brendon smiled even wider.

“You're both still bubbly over the engagement, aren't you?” Spencer said.

“Naturally,” Brendon replied.

“How could I not be?  I wasn't expecting it at all,” Ryan said.

“I'm happy for you guys,” Jon said.  “Props to Brendon for proposing.” He gave Brendon an unnecessarily hard high-five, just to laugh at his wince.

“Solid, dude.  I could totally go for a joint right now,” Brendon said.

“We’ve got an interview in about twenty minutes,” Ryan informed, shutting down Brendon's plans.

“Shit, I forgot about that,” Brendon said.

“Yeah, we should probably hurry up,” Spencer said, and they did.

All four of them had to go to the interview, and it was for a radio station.  The main topic of the interview ended up being the engagement, although the interviewer didn't have much information on it.  Truthfully, there wasn't a lot of detail or information out there for the public on their engagement, only the one photo Ryan had posted on the Internet of him and Brendon, but the interviewer didn't seem to have even seen that.

“So, Ryan, I heard you've recently been engaged.  Why don't you tell us—who's the lucky girl?” He asked.

Ryan blinked a few times before Brendon leaned into the microphone.  “That would be me,” he said, laughing a bit.

“I don't know about you being my lucky girl, but . . .”

“I'm—I’m a lucky man to be with Ryan, really,” Brendon said, for the interview more than directly to Ryan.

The interviewer seemed to think they were just joking around to avoid an actual answer, and snarkily asked, “When's the big day?”

“We don't know yet,” Brendon said, placing a hand on top of Ryan's, displaying his own new engagement ring and earning a look of realization from the interviewer.

“It hasn't been too long since he proposed,” Ryan said.

“How long have you been dating?” The interviewer asked, nodding along.

“Eight years?” Brendon said.

“Eight years,” Ryan nodded.

“That's almost the whole time your band has been together, right?”

“Yeah, almost.  That was when we met,” Brendon said.

“And, Spencer, Jon, what's it like to have your frontman and guitarist dating?”

Spencer and Jon talked about how they felt it was good for the band, and the tension was actually less intense with them being together.  Nobody went into detail about how Brendon proposed, but they talked about their rings.  There really wasn't any symbolic meaning behind Brendon's choice; he had just thought they looked cool when they chose them.

The interview was relatively short, which was good, because they were all getting tired.  From the interview, they went back to a hotel, where Ryan and Brendon shared a room.  To unwind, they laid in bed and watched TV for an hour, Brendon's head falling on Ryan's shoulder.  Ryan played with Brendon's hair absentmindedly, and asked, “Is your hangover gone by now?”

“Yeah, for sure.” On days where they had flights and shows and interviews all in one go, the mornings typically felt weeks away from the night by the time they want to bed.  Brendon could hardly believe he had a hangover that same day.

“And, Brendon, how does it feel to be my lucky girl?” He teased.

“It feels good,” Brendon muttered.

“I think I'm going to add, ‘my lucky girl’ onto the list of weird things I call you.”

Brendon raised an eyebrow.  “What else is on the list?”

“There's ‘BrennyBear,’ which is something you're never going to escape because I've been calling you that forever, there's ‘dear,’ and ‘pumpkin,’ which you personally requested, and now there's, ‘my lucky girl,’ and I think it suits you well.”

“Motherfucker,” Brendon said.

“Yeah, I guess I call you that sometimes, too, if you piss me off,” Ryan joked.

Brendon halfheartedly kicked Ryan's shin under the covers, more of just a slight nudge than anything, and Ryan shrugged his shoulder where Brendon had been resting his head in retaliation.  Brendon simply shifted to lay his head on Ryan's chest, looking up at the ceiling.  “I think the list of weird things I call you consists of, ‘my boyfriend,’ and ‘my fiancé,’ and, ‘my future husband,’” Brendon said.

“Fuck, I know,” Ryan said, reaching for Brendon's hair again.  “Do you really think you can deal with me for the rest of your life?”

Brendon patted Ryan's sharp hipbone over the comforter.  “I'd love to.  That's the goal.”

<<<<<>>>>>

They tended to fall into a routine at home, Ryan and Brendon, a different one every time a tour ended.  Now, when they were at home, for instance, they awoke at around nine, ate breakfast together, and parted.  Brendon took their in-home studio first to write, while Ryan had their shared computer to take care of calls and other business, which lasted for rarely over an hour.  Then, they switched places.  Often times, they went out for lunch, or brought something home for both of them.  At night, they played video games and watched a movie, went to bed, probably have sex.

These things were convenient; easy to live with.  Brendon felt relaxed and at ease most of the time when they were at home, and he could tell Ryan was, too.  Nothing changed when they had small, short tours, or just a show here and there, so Brendon figured with the routine, it would be easy to plan a wedding.

Ryan wasn't pushing any ideas on him, rarely even talked about the wedding, aside from an excited, “We’re engaged,” in his ear sometimes.  Brendon wanted the wedding to be meaningful, but he knew Ryan would have a better input on it than he would.  Yet he was still going to try, just to surprise Ryan once again.

He used his designated studio time to brainstorm what he was going to do, where to begin.  He supposed the venue, wherever they held the wedding, would be important, so he decided to start there.

It would be easy to get married in LA, as there were so many places with beautiful views and a young population.  Brendon could imagine them getting married on the beach, a perfect set up in his mind with white, wooden chairs sitting in the sand, a small archway and alter for himself and Ryan to stand under as they said their vows.

Yet it was summer, it would be sweltering hot under the sun, especially on the beach.  And that was if they could even find a private spot that was still nice looking.  He didn't want to be sweating under his suit, along with all the guests having to sit there through it all.

So, the California beach was ruled out as an option for a wedding venue.

He could not, for the life of him, plan a wedding inside a church, that just seemed off for both of them.  Although that would be inside, providing protection from the heat, but it would almost be better for them to be sweating their asses off than to be married in a church.

A banquet hall would be gorgeous, for a reception afterwards, but that felt too temporary, nothing significant behind it.

He guessed they would be an extremely picky and detailed couple if they hired a wedding planner, and it would be much less of a hassle if he planned it himself.

They didn't have to get married in the summer, Brendon knew that, they could wait until winter if he wanted a beach wedding.  There really were no limits—they were well off with money, they'd just gotten engaged, and the only restrictions were their own preferences.

If Brendon wanted to do something meaningful, he had to think back on his and Ryan's relationship, where the most prominent romantic memories took place.  They started dating in Vegas—he refused to even let a thought form about getting married there.  Their first kiss had been in a shitty apartment in Maryland when they were recording their first album.  Their first time having sex was in some hotel room in a European country—they'd been the only familiar thing to each other.  It had taken awhile for Ryan to blurt out the words, “I love you,” to Brendon, and that had been a big deal, sometime in the middle of the night in—in Seattle, Washington.

_ Seattle. _

Now, there was a thought.

Ryan loved it there, Brendon knew that. Ryan used to want to move there with him until they settled in LA, which was more than fine by Brendon.  But Seattle—Seattle was unfamiliar to Brendon, he didn't know much about the city, besides the constant rain he heard about, and a couple tourist attractions.

The city was had some nice qualities, Brendon could see why Ryan thought it was beautiful.  It had mountains and the water, it was clean and blossoming.  There had to be places to hold a wedding there, places both Ryan and Brendon would deem perfect for them.

Brendon weighed the cons—sure, Ryan had told him he loved him there for the first time, but it hadn't been under the best circumstances.  Ryan had still had a girlfriend, who he'd left in New York that night to go see Brendon, and Brendon had been quite upset with him for doing as such.  It was Ryan's twenty first birthday, and he'd had quite a few drinks, so even at first, Brendon thought he might not have meant it.  Ryan had to assure him he did, that he was in love with Brendon, over the next few days.  Brendon hadn't forgotten, and it sprung up the same doubt in Brendon's mind again.

Maybe the place wasn't significant to Ryan for the same reason, and maybe he wouldn't want to vow to spend the rest of his life with Brendon there.  Maybe Ryan thought it would be the opposite of romantic, that it would bring up bad memories for him.  The last thing Brendon wanted to do was cause a fight with Ryan.

Quickly, while he was having second thoughts, he typed into his computer, “wedding venues Seattle.”  The results were similar from what he would get in LA—banquet halls and churches.  For some reason, even that felt more natural in Seattle than in LA, and Brendon realized he was getting his heart set on Seattle being their wedding place.  Ryan probably wouldn't want that, and it faintly irritated Brendon.

He knew he was over-thinking when he considered that he and Ryan might disagree on everything when they started planning the wedding.

Impatient with reading search result titles, he clicked on Google Images to see if anything caught his eye, and after scrolling for no more than five seconds, he found something.

It was another beach venue, reminding him of LA, except . . . lovely.  Photogenically perfect in every sense.  The beach didn't have shores of white sand, and the water wasn't clear—instead, the beach was rocky, gray, and the water was deep blue.  In the distance, snow capped mountains surrounded the area.  How could Ryan  _ not _ want to get married here?  This place was too stunning for Brendon to imagine anywhere else.

The website of the venue provided pictures of various weddings and different decorations, and a schedule of when they were and weren't booked for marriages.  There was a slot open in three months time.

His fingers twitched with sudden nerves.  They had a lot to do in three months.  It was overwhelming.  He didn't want them to get married over the holiday season, or anywhere around there, and he didn't want to wait a whole year before marrying Ryan.  They needed to figure out decorations, if it was even possible for them to be in Seattle at that time of year—there were so many factors piling up, on top of Brendon's nagging doubt that Ryan may not even want to follow through with this plan.

“B?  Are you busy?”

Brendon snapped out of his gaze at the computer screen, spinning around in his chair to face Ryan.  He hadn't even heard him open the door of the room.  “Kinda, yeah,” he drawled with a shrug.

“Well, if you have a minute, I just got a phone call asking if we can put together a tour—”

_ Fuck, Ryan, I want to talk to you about our fucking marriage, you know _ , Brendon thought, and sighed audibly.

“Not right now,” Brendon said, turning around to look at the July to August calendar on his screen.

“It's important, I'm a little stressed right now,” Ryan said.

Brendon closed his eyes.  For whatever reason, he felt strongly that he couldn’t talk business with anyone at the moment, especially Ryan.  He had too much on his mind.  Ryan probably didn't care where they got married at all.  “I'll deal with it later,” Brendon grumbled.

Maybe he was making too big of a deal out of it.  “Hey, is everything okay?” Ryan asked, tone soft—as always, there to comfort Brendon if he needed it . . . Yet, that was frustrating to Brendon, as he couldn't stop thinking that marriage wasn't something Ryan was particularly interested in, perhaps.

“Yeah, it's fine, just—”

Ryan's cell phone rang, and Ryan immediately picked it up, but didn't answer.  “I should probably take this.”

“Just leave me alone right now, okay?” Brendon snapped, no valid reasoning behind it.  Ryan's phone was left to ring until it stopped, and he simply looked at Brendon with raised eyebrows for a moment.

“Alright,” Ryan said, flatly, and Brendon could see the man shutting down before him.  He turned and exited the room, doing as Brendon said, shoulders slumped.

Instantly, Brendon regretted his tone.  Ryan didn't deserve any of that, and his feelings always came first for Brendon.  He didn't know what he was doing, treating Ryan like that, he had no right.  The wedding was a show of his love for Ryan, and it wasn't something they should be fighting over.

Except Ryan hadn't put up a fight.  He had simply obeyed Brendon's wishes, and Brendon felt even worse about himself at how sweet Ryan was, how good to him.  Ryan would always be there to bend over backwards for Brendon, do anything for him, indulge in anything Brendon asked—until it was the other way around, in bed—and Brendon knew he took it for granted sometimes.  Ryan deserved it all back from Brendon, and he knew he should go apologize.

In fights, Ryan was always passive.  He never came back with a strong retort if he hadn't been the one to start the fight, and often simply took whatever Brendon started with him.  It made it so Brendon couldn't ever stay mad for long, no matter what was going on, due to Ryan being calm but visibly hurt.  Brendon couldn't stand it.

Brendon left the studio, hoping to go repair things with Ryan quickly, before tension built between them.  “Ryan?” He called, when he didn't find him in the kitchen or living room.

No answer.

“Ryan,” he said again, peering out the window into the backyard.  He wandered back into the hallway to their bedroom, still not getting an answer when he called for Ryan.  “Baby?” He tried, then saw their bedroom door was closed.  Not saying anything else, Brendon opened the door, to which he had succeeded in finding Ryan.

Ryan put his phone down on the bed and sat up from where he was laying, only pushing himself up to his elbows, and was biting his lip when he looked at Brendon.  That wasn't  _ fair _ , Brendon thought.  “Why was the door closed?” Brendon asked, not knowing what else to say at the start of the conversation.

“I didn't want to, ah, disturb you or whatever.”

Brendon frowned.  “You weren't.”

Ryan huffed.

“I'm sorry,” Brendon said.

“For what?”

“For snapping on you.  You didn't deserve it.”

“It's fine,” Ryan said, picking up his phone again.  It was unlike him to drop conversation with Brendon in favor of something else.

“It's really not,” Brendon continued.  “I don't know why I was taking it out on you like that, it's not personal.”

“Not a big deal,” Ryan said.

“Ryan, I really do feel bad.”

“I don't see why.”

“I hate upsetting you like this, baby, and I know you're upset.”

“I'm not.”

That was bullshit—Ryan was far too cold for it to be normal.

“I'm really sorry.”

“And it's really fine.”

“I mean it,” Brendon said.

“Drop it.  What's done is done.”

Brendon hated it more than anything when Ryan was like that.  He would've preferred it if Ryan fought back, got angry at him.  It made it so difficult for Brendon to pull Ryan out of his mood.  He wasn't going to pry Ryan for further forgiveness, knowing it was useless.  “Do you want something to eat?  We can go out for something if you want,” Brendon offered.

“I don't feel like it right now.”

Defeated, Brendon sat on the bed next to Ryan, reaching over to touch Ryan's hair.  If everything really was fine, Ryan would allow this, but Brendon knew better.  Ryan sat up to avoid Brendon's touch, and Brendon pulled away.  “I don't want you to leave me alone,” Brendon said.

Ryan met Brendon's eyes and blinked slowly.  “I know you're sorry,” he said.  “And  _ you  _ know it's not okay to be a bitch like that.”

Brendon nodded in agreement, prepared for Ryan's half-hearted scolding.

“You obviously just want my attention over something right now, and that's okay if you don't really feel bad,” Ryan said.

Brendon shook his head.  “No, I do, I feel awful for being like that.”  He searched Ryan's eyes for some emotion behind the standoffishness, automatically reaching to rub at Ryan's neck, get his point across with physical contact.  It was his specialty.  He could feel Ryan relax underneath his fingertips, which was nothing but a good sign.

“I forgive you,” Ryan said, and Brendon could tell he meant it.  “I don't want to fight with you.”

“I don't want to fight with you, either.”

“Even if you're quick to hurt my feelings,” Ryan said, but only moved to be closer to Brendon.

“I'm sorry,” Brendon said once more.  He felt relieved that Ryan had caved that fast for him.

“It's okay,” Ryan whispered, and pecked Brendon's lips, bringing a smile to Brendon's face.

“What was going on that made you stressed?” Brendon asked.  “I actually want to know.”

“They're going back and forth about whether or not we should tour this summer.  Fall Out Boy’s probably gonna do it, instead of us, so . . .”

“I don't think we should tour this summer,” Brendon said.

“That settles that, then.  We will tell them no.  But why not?”

“I think,” Brendon said, looking at Ryan's lips, wanting more than just a peck, “we should get married this summer.”  He leaned into Ryan's chest to connect their lips again, and Ryan held Brendon's waist to support him.

“Yeah?  This summer?”

“Yeah.  That's what I was busy with earlier.”

“Oh, wedding planning, huh?  That's no fun, you can't do that without me.”  Ryan pouted, and Brendon could only stare at his lips.  They seemed particularly alluring, probably due to the fact Brendon was trying to make up for everything he said.  He didn't even try to resist leaning in and locking their mouths, efficiently giving the control to Ryan.

“You're right.  I can barely do anything without you,” Brendon said, just as pouty.  As soon as he pulled away, he only wanted to kiss Ryan again, and he knew where that would lead him.

“What were you thinking about for the wedding?”

“I found a place in Seattle,” Brendon said; a bold statement.

“Seattle?”

“Yes.”

“That'd be beautiful.  Why Seattle?”

“It's where you first told me you loved me.”

Ryan's face lit up at those words, letting Brendon know he did something right.  “I loved you long before that, sweetheart.”  Ryan was the one to kiss Brendon then.

“Would you be okay with getting married there?” Brendon asked, bumping noses with Ryan.

“I think that would be perfect.”

They ended up kissing again, and again, and they were already in bed, so that didn't help save them from the heat of the moment.  Brendon wasn't hesitant to palm at the crotch of Ryan's jeans within a few moments, leaving Ryan gasping.

“You want make-up sex, don't you?  Want to prove yourself as my little slut?  Show me,” Ryan breathed down Brendon's neck.  Dirty talk was one of Brendon's many weaknesses when it came to Ryan.  He was putty in his hands in moments, and there was nothing he'd rather be doing.

Even if it weren't for them to make up, Brendon wanted to hear Ryan tell him what to do, wanted to go with it.  This was only amplified when he felt that he had to prove himself to Ryan as being the lover he wanted.  He would let Ryan do almost anything he wanted to him, and it felt so good.  So, so good.

Brendon could hardly wait until their honeymoon.

<<<<<>>>>>

Ryan agreed to the venue in Seattle, enthusiastically, just like Brendon felt when he first saw it.  This was during Ryan's post-orgasmic, blissful haze, of course, but that didn't change his decision.  Without a formal wedding planner, Brendon made the calls himself, booked the day.

This decision gave them a deadline to work with, gave them a time period in which everything must be completed.  There was a lot to do, but the first thing on Brendon's mind was their honeymoon, to directly follow the wedding.  It had been all Brendon could think about since it crossed his mind, when Ryan had been pinning him to the mattress and stripping . . .

That was what a honeymoon was for, right?  Consummating the marriage.  Brendon had been dead set on the idea of him and Ryan booking a hotel suite and doing just that, until the word, “honeymoon,” had escaped his lips when he was talking to Ryan.

“And what would we do on our honeymoon?” Ryan asked.

At first, Brendon thought Ryan was only teasing him, and said, “Anything you want, baby.”

“You want me to plan our whole honeymoon?”

Brendon's eyes flicked to Ryan's.  “Of course.  I'm all yours.”  He was devious about it, but Ryan only looked at him with wide eyes, blinking slow.

“I don't know what you're trying to tell me.  What did you have in mind?”

“I mean . . . we could book a suite somewhere . . .”

“Sure.”

“Something in Seattle, you know, probably,” Brendon said.

“Let's make it a trip, B,” Ryan said.  “We can, like, plan some stuff to do out there.”

“Okay, uh, like what?”

“I don't know.  Whatever we haven't done in Seattle yet.  But I don't think we should just stay locked up in a hotel the whole time.  You deserve better than that.”

“It doesn't get better than that,” Brendon said, smiling again.

Ryan caught Brendon's eye and seemed to give into him.  He wove his arms around Brendon's waist and pressed a kiss to his lips.  “We can stay in a lot, too,” Ryan agreed, resting their foreheads together.  “I just want to treat you well.”

Brendon had no doubt Ryan would.

No more than a week down the line, they'd figured out their honeymoon—they would do a tour of wineries around Washington state, primarily in the Seattle area.  It would last two weeks, giving them plenty of time to do whatever they wanted to do.

Wine tasting would be fun for them, along with touring a few vineyards.  It would be a nice way to unwind after all the work for the wedding.

And, holy fuck, there was work.  Brendon couldn't believe it.  It seemed as though every time one of their friends called, they would be informing them of something else they had to do to prepare for the wedding.

“Have you figured out what you're wearing?” Zack asked.

“Is the reception inside or outside?” Pete asked.

“Do you have someone doing decorations for the wedding?” Linda asked.

“Are you getting a cake?” Jon asked.

“Do I finally get to walk Ryan down the aisle?” Spencer asked.  Brendons's jaw dropped at that question.

“Oh my god, Spence.  Holy shit.  Hey, Ryan?” He called.  Ryan appeared in the doorway, looking at Brendon expectantly while he laughed.  “Spencer wants to know if—” He broke off in a fit of laughter, shaking his head.  “—here, just take the fucking phone.”  Brendon passed it over to Ryan, still giggling quietly, and watched Ryan's reaction.

Ryan smiled when Spencer told him.  “Well, I mean, uh, I am the one wearing white . . .” Ryan said, and it was true.  Brendon hadn’t seen what Ryan would be wearing, but they had agreed that Ryan would be wearing white and Brendon would wear black.  “And, you're one of our groomsmen, so it would kinda be fitting, if we take a, you know, traditional approach to the whole thing, I don't know,” Ryan said.

Brendon grinned. This could really happen.  Nobody had been in Ryan's life longer than Spencer, so Brendon thought it would be perfect.

“That's settled then.  Do you wanna talk to Brendon again?  Here, yeah, thanks, Spence,” Ryan said, and handed the phone over.

“So, B.  Have you picked out the rings yet?” Spencer asked.

No, Brendon hadn't, but that was next on the to-do list.  After he and Ryan made invitations, hired someone to do catering, and bought plane tickets.

When he got off the phone with Spencer, he wandered into the living room to find Ryan sitting on the couch, a pen and notepad in hand.  He seemed focused, but the pen paused for a moment when Brendon entered the room.  Making eye contact, Brendon knocked on the doorframe with a knuckle.

Ryan smiled at him.  “Hi.”

“Hi,” Brendon said back, finding he was smiling just because Ryan was, just because the lightness in Ryan's mood impacted him like that.

“What's up?” Ryan asked.

“Nothing much, just wondering if you were—” Brendon stopped talking, surprised to watch Ryan standing up and walking closer to him.  He’d expected Ryan to be busy, too focused to take a break for a conversation.  That was fine—Brendon completely understood how Ryan was when he was writing.

“Mm, I'm kinda busy,” Ryan hummed, “but what were you gonna ask?”  He was standing a few inches away from Brendon, that was all, and Brendon was looking up into his eyes with a close-lipped smile.

“I was just offering you to make wedding invitations with me,” Brendon said.

Ryan wrapped his arms around Brendon's waist, arms resting on his hips, and put his nose to Brendon's cheek.  Brendon could feel his cheeks going a bit pink, unable to stop smiling.  “I'd love to.  But I'm making something for you right now, beautiful,” Ryan murmured.  He bowed his head to trail kisses along Brendon's jaw.  “Maybe in the morning?”

“Maybe,” Brendon replied.  “I'll leave you to work, though.”

“Brendon,” Ryan said, pulling Brendon into a real hug, “I love you so much.”

Brendon rested his chin on Ryan's shoulder.  “I love you too.”

He never questioned when Ryan was suddenly extremely loving with him, not when Ryan was writing.  Ryan was an emotional guy, and that went well with Brendon’s personality.  Brendon was the same way with Ryan at times.

That didn't mean Brendon didn’t appreciate it, it didn't mean that it didn't make his heart swell and stomach flip and head rush.

While working on wedding invitations by himself, he thought of Ryan.  From the beginning, Ryan did have a point—they didn't have to get married.  They didn't have to do any of it.  But Brendon wanted to.  He wanted to be legally bound to Ryan, wanted to introduce him as his husband, wanted to hear Ryan say, “I do.”  It hurt to think that Ryan may not have wanted that with him, may not think it was an important thing for them to get married.

Brendon knew Ryan loved him, and Ryan could make him feel adored, but it wasn't erasing his thoughts and doubts of Ryan's feelings on their marriage.  He suddenly felt so stupid, for preparing so intricately for a wedding, all because of Ryan, when Ryan didn't care about it as much as he did.

Maybe he was overthinking again.  He hadn't even thought Ryan would accept his proposal, and Ryan did, like it had been obvious that he would.  Brendon hoped it was the same with their actual marriage.

He scrolled through the engagement photos they had taken, trying to choose one to place on the invitations.  Perhaps it was a waste of time for Ryan, he obviously had other things he was busy with, more important than a wedding, Brendon thought to himself.

The engagement photos were all professionally done, and Ryan had looked stunning in maroon and beige.  There were about fifteen pictures, and Brendon narrowed it down to three—one where they were holding hands and leaning into each other's sides, one where they were kissing, and one where Brendon had a hand on Ryan's chest, Ryan's arm around him, and they were gazing into each other’s eyes.

He decided that the one of them holding hands didn't convey the message of them getting married well enough for their invitations.  The one of them kissing was too much like an actual wedding photo, like the act was already done.  With those options found not feasible, Brendon chose the last one.

The wedding invitations contained the picture, their names in a large font, the date of the wedding, and the location.  He knew the people they invited would be willing to fly out to Seattle for it.  Looking at the time, he didn't realize how long he spent making the invitations perfect.  It was late, and he didn't want to start anything else, figuring he should go to bed and possibly spare a few minutes to catch up with Ryan.

Ryan was still out in the living room when Brendon found him.  He was still writing away, balancing the notepad against his knees, curled up close to his chest.  Brendon could hear the scribbling of the pen on paper, and then it stopped.  Obviously deep in thought, Ryan looked up and over at Brendon, eyes unblinking.  He didn't seem to comprehend that Brendon was even there, and abruptly went back to writing.

It had been hours.  Brendon wondered if Ryan really had been sitting there, writing three album’s worth of lyrics, or if there was something else going on entirely that Brendon didn't know about.

He didn't want to disrupt Ryan's train of thought, and crossed the room without any acknowledgment from Ryan.  That was kind of amazing, Brendon considered.

Brendon took his time getting ready for bed, putting on some music because he didn't like the silence without Ryan.  To give Ryan more time, he looked through a couple social media apps on his phone.  Everything was normal and carefree, but Brendon still had nagging doubts about Ryan.  If Ryan didn't want to marry him, then would their marriage be miserable?  Brendon was worried.

Wanting to forget about it all and go to sleep, Brendon sent Ryan a text that read, “You coming to bed?”  Ryan would distract him, maybe even assure him that he wanted to get married.  All Brendon really wanted was to feel his body next to him when he fell asleep.

Less than a minute later, Ryan stood in the doorway.  Brendon took his earbuds out, setting his phone down on the bathroom counter.  Ryan looked Brendon up and down, and a smile came to his face.  “Wow,” Ryan breathed.

“What?” Brendon said, trying to follow Ryan's eyes.

“You are so gorgeous, fuck.”

Brendon certainly didn't feel gorgeous at the moment, he knew he didn't look his best, not at all.  His hair was all flopping to one side of his head, awkwardly flattened.  He wore a baggy t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that were probably a size too small, tight, having belonged to Ryan, but comfortable all the same.  Yet Ryan sounded like Brendon looked the sexiest he ever had, and Brendon blinked, somewhat bashfully.

“Not really, Ryan—”

“Oh, don't be shy, now,” Ryan said.  “You're too cute, I have to tell you sometimes.”  He cupped Brendon's face in both of his hands, and kissed Brendon's lips.  Brendon blushed, not having expected Ryan's words.

“Nothing compared to you,” Brendon said, giggling a bit.

Ryan tsked, and rested his forehead to Brendon's.  “Aw, don't be so embarrassed.  You know it's true.” He kissed Brendon's lips again, and placed his hands on Brendon's waist.  “And I am so lucky.”

“Why?”

“I am so lucky that I get to  _ marry  _ you, my love.  I can't wait.”

Brendon blinked.  If he hadn't expected anything else Ryan had said, he definitely didn't expect that.  “Really?” Brendon asked, voice small.

“Of course.  What's wrong?  Why would you doubt that?”

“I don't know, I'm just thinking too much, I guess.”

“Well, stop it, then.”  He kissed Brendon's forehead.  “I said yes, didn't I?”

Brendon nodded.  Ryan's fingers slipped between his, taking his hand.  “I just—I worry,” Brendon said.

“You don't have any reason to.”

“I guess not.”

Ryan frowned, and tugged on Brendon's hand slightly, leading them to bed.  “I want to marry you,” Ryan said, blatantly.

“Okay.”

“Are you worried I'm gonna change my mind or something?”

“I'm worried you don't really want to at all.”

“And why wouldn't I?” Ryan ran his fingers through Brendon's hair.

Brendon shrugged.  “Maybe you're just doing it so I'm not all sad and rejected.”

“If I didn't want to marry you, then I would've said no when you proposed.”

“Or maybe my timing was bad, and you don't want to get married right now.  We’re still young, and you don't want to get tied down right now . . .”

“‘Tied down?’  Really?  Are you serious?”

“Yeah, like, it'll take away freedom or whatever, and you can't just end the relationship, like, we’d have to go through everything with divorce and—”

“Whoa, whoa.  Don't talk about divorce right now.  We’re not even married yet.  That's a scary word for me.”

“I know, I know.”  Brendon gulped.  “I don't want you to feel like I'm forcing you into anything.”

“You are being so ridiculous right now,” Ryan said, with an incredulous laugh.

“I mean, I'm always talking about the wedding, and trying to figure shit out, and you always leave the decisions to me, you're just neutral, and it made me think about it all, you know?  If you don't really care about getting married.  If it's not really something you want.”

“I want to be with you for the rest of my life, Brendon.”

“Yeah, okay, but you've even said that we can do that without making this big commitment.  I'm worried it's gonna make us be all pressured or something, I don't know, and then you're gonna regret doing this and end up hating me.”

Ryan stared at him for a moment.  “Ridiculous,” he repeated.  “You'd have to fuck up really bad for me to hate you.  Like,  _ really _ bad.  Marriage isn't going to really change anything about us, okay?  We’ve lived together long enough.  Pete even said that we basically already are married, and I think he’s right.  We’ll just have a new ring and—and that's it, really.”

Brendon took that in, nodding.

“I'm sorry I haven't helped you enough with planning the wedding,” Ryan said, voice softer.

“It's okay—” Brendon was cut off by Ryan winding his arms around him, burying his face in Brendon's neck.

“You shouldn't ever have to doubt how much I want to be with you.  I hope you never do after it’s all official,” Ryan whispered.

“I love you,” Brendon said.

“I love you too.  Now let’s go to sleep so you can wake up in the morning and start the day without being worried.  Hopefully,” Ryan suggested.

“Sounds nice.”

With the lights out and Brendon nestled warmly into Ryan's chest, Brendon felt at ease.  Ryan had the ability to totally calm him, even if it was only temporary.  In the moment, Brendon always felt completely soothed and comfortable, not a bit of negativity in his mood.

That was just another reason why he wanted to spend the rest of his days with Ryan.

“Hey, baby?” Brendon asked, before Ryan fell asleep.

“Yeah?”

“What were you writing today?”

Ryan sighed.  “My vows to you.”

Brendon raised his eyebrows in curiosity.  “What did you say in them?”

“You'll find out at the wedding.  They're not even done yet.”

“Even after all that time?”

“Yeah.  I have too much to say, I can't narrow it down enough . . .”

“You don't really have to,” Brendon said, smirking a bit.

“What do you mean?”

“That you have the rest of our lives to tell me whatever you want to say.”

Ryan rubbed Brendon's back, small circles across his spine.  “You're right,” Ryan said, quieter.

That night, Brendon fell asleep peacefully, without worries.  Ryan seemed to take it all away from him, as he worried now about making sure Brendon was secure and happy in the engagement.

<<<<<>>>>>

Brendon's bachelor party was three days before the wedding.  Spencer insisted that he had one, before they left for Seattle—“No, you can't share your party with  _ Ryan _ , we’re having a separate one for him,” Spencer insisted.

“Okay, that’s fine,” Brendon said, and it truly was.

He got hammered drunk.

The group went out to a club with a nice bar, where they all danced.  Both guys and girls hit on Brendon, danced it up with him, but he was rejecting everything—at least until he got too drunk to remember anything, then he couldn't say what happened.

He woke up to the sunlight, immediately, far too bright for him to keep his eyes open.  His head felt like it was getting repeatedly hit with a hammer, on the inside of his skull, and the nausea was strong.  The room felt too cold, only a sheet covering him, and he could tell he was completely naked.

Burying his face in the pillow without opening his eyes, he hoped he was at home, fuck, that Ryan was lying next to him, that everyone made sure he didn't go home with anyone else.

He’d hate himself for it, two days before the wedding, sleeping with someone else.  Ryan wouldn't forgive him for that.

Shifting uncomfortably, he could feel some fabric bunched up underneath his body.  Groaning, he reached to grab it.  Relief overcame him when he saw it was a t-shirt of Ryan's, that it belonged to Ryan.  Since the bright light wasn't agreeing with him, he threw the shirt over his eyes.

With the fear gone and knowledge he was in his own home, Brendon relaxed into the bed, pulling the sheet farther over himself.  The movement made his head hurt even more, and he grimaced.

“Oh, good, you're awake,” he heard Ryan say, his voice unmistakable.  “I was almost worried you'd really overdone it.”

Brendon rolled over, towards his voice and away from the sunlight coming through the windows of their bedroom.

“You're not feeling too good, are you?”  Ryan said.  Brendon felt Ryan's fingertips skim along his jaw, and Brendon instantly jerked away from the touch.  “Okay, it's alright.”  He heard the sheets rustle, and then all of them being pulled over him.  “I'll go make you something to eat.”

“Thank you,” Brendon mumbled.

Ryan closed the door behind himself, and the room seemed to get darker.  Brendon didn't move from where he laid, feeling woozy and completely hungover.

When Ryan returned, he carried a plate with two pieces of buttered toast, setting it quietly on the nightstand beside Brendon.  Brendon managed to pull the t-shirt away from his face to look at Ryan, and eat the food that was brought to him.

Ryan crawled on the bed to sit with him, staying silent due to Brendon's headache.  He made Brendon drink coffee and water and take painkillers, then left to wash the plate Brendon used.  Brendon smiled a bit at how sweet Ryan was to him, how he was taking care of him.

Brendon was still tired, exhausted, even, and curled back up before Ryan swooped in to hold him.  He turned over, squirming to bury his face in Ryan's chest and intertwine their legs under the covers.  “Still tired?” Ryan asked, and Brendon nodded.  It was relaxing to lay that close to Ryan, cozy and warm, especially after the uneasiness of waking up.  Ryan was shirtless, but wore sweatpants, while Brendon hadn't gotten dressed yet.  “You can go back to sleep if you want,” Ryan said.  “You probably should, really.”

“No, I wanna know what happened last night,” Brendon said, lifting his head slightly to look at Ryan.

“You drank way too much, that's pretty much all I know.”

“When did I get home?”

“Oh, I don't know, it was, like, three in the morning when I heard someone knock on the door.  Zack and Spencer had to drag you in, said, “This belongs to you,” and dropped you on my shoulder.  They were nice about it, though.  You took a shower, but wouldn't get dressed again, and took off my shirt for whatever reason.  When you laid down, you just cuddled with it, which doesn't really make sense.  It was kinda adorable, though.”

“Sorry,” Brendon said, trailing his fingers down Ryan's chest lightly.

“It's okay.  As long as you came home in one piece, that's what I care about.”

Brendon yawned.  “I like drinking, I hate getting drunk.”

Ryan hummed in agreement.

Brendon could feel himself drifting off to sleep again, and allowed it to happen.  Ryan kissed the top of his head, and that was the last thing Brendon remembered.

As he awoke, a couple hours later, he could immediately sense how much better he felt.  He didn't have a problem opening his eyes to meet the brightness of the room, and it wasn't hard to sit up.  The headache and nausea were gone, along with Ryan—Brendon frowned at the emptiness of the bed, but simply got to his feet to go find him.

The bathroom was empty, so Brendon strode out into the living room.  The air was a bit too cool on his skin—he remained unclothed, still, but didn't mind.  He was in no rush to get ready, anyway.

He found Ryan in their studio, which was no surprise, a guitar resting on the ground next to his chair.  Ryan sat at the computer, and Brendon snuck up behind him; he wound his arms around the back of the chair, placing one hand on Ryan's belt, and the other on his chest.

“Hey,” Brendon whispered, right in Ryan's ear.

“Hi,” Ryan replied, and turned around to look at him briefly.  He did a double take, looking Brendon's body up and down.

“You got dressed,” Brendon noted, and slipped his fingers under Ryan's waistband, hooking his chin over Ryan's shoulder.

“You didn't.”

“I just woke up.”  Brendon kissed Ryan's neck, at the perfect angle from how he stood.  When Ryan didn't protest, Brendon sidled a hand up his shirt.

“Feeling better, I see,” Ryan said.

“Oh, yeah, much better.”

“That's good.”  Ryan reached for Brendon's hand, pulling it out of the waistband of his jeans, and laced their fingers together.

“Can I steal you from whatever you're doing?” Brendon asked.

“Yeah, I think so.”  Ryan stood, looked down into Brendon's eyes, and pulled him close.  “What do you need, baby boy?” He said, against Brendon's lips.

“You,” Brendon breathed.  He pressed his hips into Ryan's, and placed his palms on Ryan's chest.

“What, didn't you have enough fun last night?”

“That was nothing, all I got were a bunch of people dancing with me, grinding on me, and they weren't you—”

“I don't think I like the sound of that,” Ryan said, stroking down the back of Brendon's bare thigh.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”  Ryan looked at him with slow blinks, and continued, “Because you're mine, lover.”  His voice was light and airy, accentuating his touches all over Brendon's thighs and hips.  Between that and the possessiveness, it made Brendon shiver, and he could feel himself getting hard.  

“Are you gonna dance with me, then?” Brendon asked.

“Depends on what you consider dancing,” Ryan said, and smacked Brendon's ass—sharp, in comparison to the way he’d been brushing his fingertips against Brendon's skin.

Brendon gasped, melted in Ryan's arms, and let Ryan push him back against the wall to kiss him hard.

<<<<<>>>>>

They flew to Seattle the day before the wedding, not even having a rehearsal.  They didn't know where to have one—the actual venue for their marriage was booked for the nights beforehand—or how useful it would even be.  “Can you believe it, Ryan,” Brendon asked, “that there are some people getting married right now, who are just as in love as we are?”

“I don't know about that.  I don't think anyone could love somebody as much as I love you,” Ryan replied.  Brendon squeezed Ryan's hand at that.

They rented a car at the airport in Seattle, and drove into the city to their hotel themselves.  Both were silent most of the time, looking around and taking everything in.  The traffic was pretty bad, so it was taking them quite a bit of time to get anywhere.

Brendon didn't mind, but he was thrumming with nerves.  Tomorrow, he would commit to Ryan for the rest of his life.  Yeah, it was exciting, but it was also intimidating to imagine anything being a constant for the rest of his life.

“Aren't you nervous, babe?” Brendon blurted out, disturbing the silence, and that was his mistake.

“Why would I be nervous?”

“Because our wedding is tomorrow.”

“So?” Ryan questioned.  “That doesn't seem scary to me.”

“We’re going to be bound together for the rest of our lives,” Brendon said.

“So you're saying that you're having second thoughts,” Ryan stated.

“No!  No, of course not, why would you think that?”

“You're nervous about it, Brendon, why else would you be nervous?”

“Because it's a big deal.”

“Yeah, but it's supposed to be good.”

“It is, it is, but—”

“You've figured it out, haven't you, that  _ I'll  _ be the one who’s just tying you down, forever.  You're afraid that you'll want freedom and you won't be able to have it because you’re married to me,” Ryan said.

“No, that's not it at all—”

“Then why else?  It doesn't make sense for you to be nervous.”  They parked at the hotel, which was elaborate and beautiful, but Brendon couldn't pay attention to it, too angry at Ryan.

“Maybe because I fucking care about this a lot more than you do,” Brendon shot back.

“Oh, really?  I've been the one to tell you that you won't be tying me down, that this is what I want, and you've believed me.  But now you're the one who’s afraid to get married, you're scared of it all, and that—that  _ hurts _ , Brendon.”

Brendon, in all honesty, was fuming.  Together, they mechanically took their luggage out of the back of the car to carry into the hotel.

Finding the fucking check-in desk was irritating enough, on top of everything.  Why they didn't just put the damn things in the front of the building . . .

Brendon was impatient by the time they found it, tucked in a corner.  “How can I help you?” The woman asked behind the desk.

“Checking in,” Brendon said, voice snapping and harsh.

“Last name?” She chirped.

“Ross,” Brendon said, through gritted teeth.

Brendon carried the room keys, and Ryan was back at his throat again as soon as they were out of earshot of anyone.  “You didn't have to be rude to the hotel employee, what the hell—”

“You didn't have to get mad at me for talking, either, but you did, so.  Fuck, I can't believe you brought all of this shit up today,” Brendon said.

“I can't believe you're having second thoughts today.”

Brendon quickly unlocked the door to their room and threw it open.  He dropped the bags he was holding on the floor as soon as they walked in, not even paying attention to the over the top luxury of the place.  “I wasn't having second thoughts!” Brendon defended.

“You weren't?  So, are you now?”

Brendon bit his lip, thinking about it, but he was too filled with anger towards Ryan.  “I don't know, you don't seem too excited to go through with it, maybe—”

“Not this shit again.  You're the one complaining about it happening, now.”

“When have I complained about the wedding?  I haven't, don't even start.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?  You're nervous about it.  You're scared.  Sorry, but that sounds like you're the one dreading going through with it.”

The words, “Then that makes it the two of us,” were out of his mouth before he could stop them, before he could think about the weight of what they meant.

Ryan shook his head.  “Fine, fuck it, one of us can go home right the fuck now.  We can call off the wedding, send everyone home, actually.”

Brendon's stomach dropped, and, wait, no, no, that wasn't happening.  “I knew that would be what you wanted,” Brendon said.

“I'll make the arrangements,” Ryan said, cold.  Brendon could hardly breathe, suddenly, overcome with fright, that it was all over, all of it, and Ryan didn't care, Ryan was just going to go with it.  Brendon, on the other hand, his lips were trembling and his eyes were filling with tears, his chest ached and his heart was beating too fast.

“Fuck you!” Brendon shouted, while tearing his engagement ring off.  He hurled it across the room at Ryan, turned around, and walked out, slamming the door behind him.


	2. Part II

He didn't know where to go, or what to do with himself.  Somehow, he managed to hold back tears as he paced the hallway outside the door to their suite.  He settled on the window at the end of the hallway, leaning his palms against the sill and staring out at nothing.

His mind raced with all the thoughts that came along with the fact that he was losing Ryan.  After everything, years of gut-wrenching fights and years of soft and sweet loving and years of building a tight-knit, strong relationship, they were losing each other, the day before their wedding was scheduled.  They were supposed to be happy, supposed to be excited and jittery, yet as Brendon started sobbing, the thought of feeling that way seemed so out of the picture.  He had this image of their home, filled with boxes, as one of them packed up their things to leave, move out.  He wouldn't be able to wake up and have Ryan right there next to him, wouldn't be able to have his general presence around the house, wouldn't be able to hardly even talk to him, and Ryan could go off and do whatever he wanted, find somebody else, be happier, not have someone who would tie him down and hold him back.

Brendon couldn't stop, driving himself into hysterics, picturing what was going to happen to them.  He didn't know how he could handle them being apart.  How could Ryan do this to him?  On top of the sadness and tears, Brendon was still angry at him for all of it.  Everything had been normal, just that morning, but then Ryan had to go and change everything at the last minute.

He had to take some responsibility himself, though.  It was his fault for escalating things; he should have tried to calm Ryan down before he got defensive himself.

Too overwhelmed, he couldn't see them coming back from this, couldn't see things going back to being right, and all he could do was cry.  Distraught.  He faced regret—he should have tried to talk Ryan out of cancelling the wedding, he shouldn't have said anything to begin with about being nervous, he shouldn't have left the room.  Now, he was angry with himself for leaving.  It wasn't like he could go back, since he didn't even have a room key with him, and doubted Ryan would let him in again.  He really fucked up bad, he told himself.

Ryan probably took it as Brendon leaving and not coming back, especially since he took his engagement ring off.  Why did he have to get so caught up in the moment—?

“Brendon.”  There was a whisper right above him, a brush of fingertips on his shoulder.  Of course he knew who it was, immediately, and he tried to pull himself together, but only succeeded in crying more.  He dug his knuckles into his face to wipe away the tears, just for them to start falling again, and turned around to look at Ryan.  “Hi,” Ryan said, eyes searching Brendon's face, and he looked pained and saddened.

“Hey,” Brendon choked out.

Ryan was silent for a moment.  His arms were loosely crossed over his chest, but not in a way to indicate anger.  He seemed to be waiting for Brendon to say more, only continuing when Brendon didn't.  Brendon had no idea what the right thing was to do, to say.  “I don't know if you want to talk right now, I understand if you don't, but—but I think we should, uh, talk about some things.”

Brendon nodded.  Talking was good.  Talking was nice.  Talking meant another few minutes before their possible break up to be finalized, and Brendon would do anything to drag out his time with Ryan.

“Uh—” Ryan started, as if he was going to get right into saying something serious and to the point, but then the look on his face changed, eyebrows furrowing—“please don't cry,” he said, tone soft and wincing.

“I'm trying, I'm trying,” Brendon said, laughing pitifully at himself.

“Are you going home?” Ryan asked, voice dropping to a whisper.

“I—I don't know.  Are you?”

Ryan gulped.  “I don't really want to.”

“Me neither,” Brendon grimaced.

“So what're we gonna do?” Ryan asked.

Brendon didn't know how to answer.  He was hoping that Ryan was wanting them to stay together, that maybe, just maybe, he was coming to apologize or forgive Brendon; mend things.

“I have to leave it up to you.  I, honestly, don't want you to leave me, I don't want us to not be together—” Brendon couldn't finish what he was saying, as he began crying again.

“Wait, you want to stay?” Ryan questioned.

Brendon nodded, lifting his head meekly.  “I don't know why the fuck I would say what I said, so I'm sorry, I wasn't ever dreading getting married and I don't want to walk away from all of this, but if you don't believe me, then there's nothing I can do, and you'll just have to leave me, but I don't know how I'll be able to handle that,” Brendon rambled, in between sobs.

“Okay, okay.”

“But I'm still mad at you,” Brendon said, and he shoved at Ryan's chest, but it was weak, “for putting all this between us.  I just want everything to be normal, but you had to go and fuck us over.”

“I'm so sorry, Brendon, I am so sorry.  Please stay with me,” Ryan whispered.  His eyes were wet with tears as he looked into Brendon's.  “Please.  I don't want to live without you.  I don't care if you want to get married right now or not, or if you're mad at me, I just want you to stay with me.  Please.  Please don't go.  I'm sorry I'm so fucking stupid and inconsiderate and I don't deserve you at all, I should treat you so much better.”

“I'm not going anywhere.  I'm s-sorry—” He broke off in tears again, too thick to form words.  Shaking his head, he reached out to wrap his arms around Ryan, pull him into a hug.  He sobbed into the crook of Ryan's neck, and Ryan held him there, reluctantly comforting him.  Brendon was relieved; he wanted nothing more than for Ryan's fingers to run along his spine.

“Hey, sh, sh, it's okay.  You're alright.   _ We’re _ alright,” Ryan told him.

“I shouldn't get mad so fast,” Brendon said.

“You're fine, Brendon.  It's gonna be okay.”  Ryan pulled away slightly to look at Brendon, and cupped his tear-stained face in his hands.  “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Brendon said, shaking.  Ryan kissed him, making him stop crying.

“Let's go back to the room, okay?” Ryan whispered, inches from Brendon's lips.

“Okay.”

Ryan took Brendon's hand, and Brendon could feel the metal of Ryan's ring.  It was now something that stressed Brendon out, as he didn't know what they were going to do about the wedding.

“The place is really nice, I promise,” Ryan said, while he unlocked the door.  Brendon giggled a bit at that, and Ryan reluctantly smiled back.  The tears kept welling up in his eyes, so much that he didn't even take in the details of the suite, and sat down on the couch.  “I'm gonna get you some tissues, I'll be right back,” Ryan told him.

“Thank you,” Brendon sniffled.

Ryan sat down next to him, handing him the box of tissues.  “I'm really sorry,” he apologized again.

“It's okay,” Brendon said, although he was crying.  “I was so scared.”  He grabbed a tissue to try to dry his eyes.

“So was I,” Ryan said.  “I don't ever want to be without you.”

“I'm sorry too,” Brendon said.  He looked over at Ryan, and Ryan reached out to thumb the tears off his face.  Brendon rested his cheek on Ryan's shoulder, cuddling closer to him.  Ryan sighed.

“It's okay.  It's not your fault.”  He kissed the top of Brendon's head, pressing his nose into Brendon's hair.

“I would miss you so much, love.  I don't know what I would do.”

“Let's not even think about it,” Ryan said.  “I love you too much.”

“I love you too.”

“Listen, I know you're probably still a little bit mad at me, and I totally understand, but . . . B, we’re in Seattle, in probably the nicest place in the city.  We’ve got two weeks to figure things out before we go back to real life—”

“I don't really think we have anything to figure out,” Brendon said.

“Okay.  Good.  That's really good, um.  I hope I'm not reading this wrong, but if you think we’re going to be okay, and I think we are, then—then I have to ask you, Brendon Urie—” Ryan shifted to stand, then immediately drop to one knee in front of Brendon—“Will you marry me?”  He reached in his back pocket to produce Brendon's copper-plated engagement ring, holding it up to him.

Brendon could feel his insides go all melty  and warm when he saw Ryan's eyes, looking at him with such a huge hopefulness.  “Yes,” Brendon smiled.  “How could I refuse someone as beautiful as you?”

Ryan beamed; Brendon felt accomplished for causing it.  He slipped the ring on Brendon's finger, and his own were shaking.  “Now who's nervous?” Brendon teased.

“Shut up,” Ryan said, but it was with a laugh.

“I can't wait, really, I'm so excited,” Brendon said.

“Me too.”

“Come here,” Brendon said, pulling Ryan in for another embrace.  “I can't ever stay mad at you for too long.”

“And I can't stand to see you cry.”  Ryan pulled back slightly to rest his forehead to Brendon's.

They stood like that, swaying slightly, Brendon feeling comforted by having Ryan there.  Brendon's fingers moved on their own accord to caress Ryan's back, feeling his ribcage contract with each breath.  Eventually, Brendon felt his eyelids drooping heavily, and realized how much Ryan's hands were holding him up.

“I'm tired,” Brendon said.  Ryan looked up, and he looked drowsy as well.

“Let's go to bed.  We’ve got a big day tomorrow,” Ryan said.

“The big day,” Brendon repeated.

Ryan's hands slipped down his back, and Ryan intertwined their fingers.  “You're gonna love our room,” Ryan said.

Ryan was right, of course.  Their room had a fireplace, an ocean view, and a huge bed.  Brendon was drawn to it, but tore himself away to go explore the rest of the suite.  They had a balcony to overlook the water, and a nice kitchen, which Brendon doubted they would use.  Brendon joined Ryan in the shower, which was also grand.

He washed Ryan's hair, running his fingers through the recently cut strands.  He relaxed under Brendon's touch, head bowed under the water.  “Sleep,” Ryan said, as soon as they stepped out.  Brendon agreed, and followed Ryan to a suitcase, warm clothes, and bed.

Ryan wrapped an arm around his waist, the soft covers over them.  Brendon was content, aside from the uneasiness crying left in him.  It was slowly seeping away, though, as Ryan held him.

Even with how tired he was, Brendon couldn't fall asleep.  Ryan's breathing had evened out next to him, but Brendon couldn't keep his eyes closed.

Surprisingly, he found it wasn't from nerves, but from excitement.  He was imagining seeing Ryan all dressed up, walking down the aisle, and saying, “I do.”  He imagined Ryan's vows, knowing they would be better than anything he could think of.  He pictured their first dance, as a married couple, and it seemed dazzling.

Brendon mentally went over what his vows said, the ones he wrote for Ryan, and he hoped he could make Ryan cry with them, because he knew he was going to get choked up by saying them.  To settle down with Ryan forever . . . it beat any paradise out there, Brendon thought.

It was about three in the morning when Ryan stirred behind him.  His hand shifted, tucked under Brendon's side, to splay over his ribs instead.  “Brendon? Are you awake?” Ryan asked, voice low, coming out as more of a whimper than anything.  Brendon immediately knew something was wrong, his stomach twisting.

“Yeah, baby, what is it?”

“Nothing, really, just bad dreams.”  Ryan pressed his face into Brendon's neck and shoulder, pulling him tighter against his body.

“What were they about?” Brendon asked.

“You,” Ryan whispered.

“Oh, yeah, because I'm terrifying,” Brendon joked.

“You're really not, sorry, B.  You're adorable.”

Brendon flipped around in Ryan's arms, so their chests were pressed together.  “I will eat your soul,” Brendon growled, grasping Ryan's face.  Ryan smiled, even though Brendon knew he was being dumb.  That was kinda the point, to cheer Ryan up.  He kissed Ryan's lips, deeply, and Ryan ran his fingers through Brendon's hair.  “So, what did you dream about?” Brendon inquired, as he pulled away.

“It was horrible,” Ryan frowned.  “You were dying, and I couldn't do anything for you.  We were in the hospital, and it was just awful, I don't know.”

“Oh,” Brendon said.

“You're not allowed to ever die, okay?  Not before I do.  That would be the worst thing that could happen.”

“Okay, Ryan,” Brendon chuckled.  “You don't have anything to worry about right now.”

“I know, I'm just freaked out right now.”

“I'm sorry.  Somehow, though, I think I'll live,” Brendon said, sarcastically.

“Please do.”

“I might fall asleep, though.”

“As long as you wake up for me, baby boy.”

“I will,” Brendon said.  Ryan was standing up, and Brendon reached out to catch his hand.  “Hey,” Brendon said, and kissed Ryan's hand, “I'm not going anywhere.  You're not gonna lose me that easily.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Ryan said.  He bent to kiss Brendon's cheek.  Brendon tugged on his hand when he began to walk away.

“Where are you going?” Brendon asked, with a pout.

“I don't know.  I don't want to keep you up, though, and I'm not going back to sleep.”

“Okay, lover.”

Ryan shut the door behind himself, and Brendon laid in the dark, even more awake than before.  He hadn't wanted Ryan to get out of bed—he was always much more relaxed with him there—but he would try to sleep a little more.  He didn't need to be falling asleep at the alter, or in Ryan's arms in the middle of their dances.

Brendon squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to keep them that way, but he kept feeling the need to check the clock.  In fourteen hours, Ryan Ross would be his lawfully wedded husband, and him Ryan's.  Everything was coming together, and he felt that he had been waiting for the day of their marriage for far too long.

He’d only been laying there for about twenty minutes when he couldn't take it anymore.  He got out of bed, on a mission to join Ryan in whatever he was doing to pass the time.

Ryan sat with his legs crossed, on the couch, laptop rested on his thighs.  He was typing—writing something, Brendon should've known.

It was when he looked up and Brendon that Brendon's heart leaped in his throat.  Tears streamed down Ryan's cheeks, lips parted, and he looked shocked to see Brendon.

“Angel, what's wrong?” Brendon whispered, walking closer to him.

“Nothing,” Ryan said, lips twitching upwards.  Ryan closed the laptop, blinking up at Brendon with wide eyes.

Brendon sunk into the space next to him.  “What were you working on?”

“Rewriting my vows.  Again.”

“Why?” Brendon twisted Ryan's hair around his fingers, more out of habit than anything.  There weren't any fresh tears in Ryan's eyes, which eased Brendon—Ryan must've been crying over the vows, which Brendon completely understood.

“I just had more ideas and felt like I had to,” Ryan answered.

“Okay.”

“They're never gonna be good enough for what you deserve, though,” Ryan said.

Brendon shook his head, cupped the back of Ryan's neck, and kissed him softly.

<<<<<>>>>>

Anticipation wired Brendon up, but it wasn't laced with even a hint of nervousness.  He walked arm in arm with his mother down the aisle, eyes trained on the rocks at the end of the sand he was walking on.  The day was gray, gloomy, the clouds dark overhead.  Wind was picking up, and the guests all had coats wrapped tightly around themselves.

Brendon couldn't even comprehend temperature, too focused on how much he wished to see Ryan.  It had only been a few hours since they parted, but Brendon felt like it had been days.  He hadn't seen what Ryan would be wearing, and didn't know what to expect, aside from it being white.

He wore black, mostly simple, with tailored pants and jacket, white shirt, black tie.  His jacket buttoned around the waist, with his tie tucked underneath.  He’d spent time styling his hair, making it look as perfect as it possibly could.  He didn't wear glasses, and additionally brushed on a faint hint of eyeliner under his eyes.  There would probably be hundreds of pictures taken, and, after all, he had to do  _ something _ to compare to Ryan's beauty.

At the edge of sharp rocks, he and his mother stopped walking.  She took a seat in the front row, but Brendon's eyes didn't follow her.  He glanced out at the water, which was looking dark and gray, and as soon as he turned his head to look down the aisle, a droplet of water hit the tip of his nose.

Zack walked down the aisle, and Brendon couldn't help but smile at him.  He was dressed sharply, in all black, a bow tie around his neck.  With a second of hesitation, Zack smiled back at Brendon, then looked up to the sky.  Sporadic drops of rain kept falling from the dark clouds above, but Brendon didn't care, hardly even took notice of it.  Zack stood at his side, just as Brendon realized water was cold against his scalp, dripping through his hair.

Pete walked down the aisle, stood across from Brendon near where Ryan would be.  Soon.  Jon followed, standing beside Zack, and then—

Then Brendon felt like he had been struck in between the ribs, except gently, with something warm, maybe hot tea, or even whiskey—overwhelming.  His eyes were wide, he knew from how the rain was hitting his eyelashes, but none of it mattered.  Brendon was lost, entirely and utterly taken in by the sight before him.  Ryan, his Ryan . . .

He was a fucking angel, Brendon decided, carefully watching him, trying to take him all in at once.  Ryan wasn't looking at Brendon, not yet, instead gazing out at the rows of occupied chairs.  His lips were parted, slightly, looking a perfect shade pink and so, so kissable, Brendon thought.  His eyelashes seemed longer than usual, and Brendon caught glimpse of his amber eyes, which were bright, lit up and sparkling.  Part of that may have been the eyeliner he was also wearing, just a dusting under his eyes, nearly identical to Brendon's.

Ryan's neck was partially covered by the collar of the button up dress shirt he wore—white—and the sharply cornered bow tie right above his collarbones—silver.  The white suit jacket only had one button, to prominently define his narrow waist, and to display the silvery vest he wore underneath.  His pants were a matching white color, and Brendon couldn't help but stare, even as Ryan caught him.

Brendon couldn't have torn his eyes away if he wanted to, if he tried.  Ryan was staring back, smiling more with the closer he got.  Brendon remembered to grin back at him at the last moment, and it was filled with so much happiness, adoration.

They faced each other.  Brendon shivered, from a mixture of knowing Ryan was his, and the rainwater that was dripping from his hair and down his spine.  The rain and wind were picking up, but somehow it was helping Brendon breathe more clearly.  It helped his focus.

With how intricately Brendon was watching, he could see Ryan gulp, see his fingers tremble, as he reached for a folded piece of paper inside his jacket.  Steady rain hit the paper, and Ryan looked startled every time.

Ryan licked his lips.  Brendon took a breath, trying not to gasp too much.  This was the moment, this was it.  Ryan would read his vows, and then Brendon would read his, and they'd be married.

Brendon's full attention was caught as Ryan's eyes lifted from the page.  Naturally, Brendon was entranced by the look there, and felt weak at the sound of his voice.

“You are my symmetry.”  Ryan exhaled, shaky.  “You are my equilibrium.  If I didn't have you, if I lost you, the world would be off its axis, and love would be a hopeless cause.  I love you so much that I wouldn't be the same person if I didn't.  And it is my promise to you to always be the one who is yours, to always be the person you desire me to be.

“I will not hide from you, I will not hide anything from you.  To you and to you only, I am an open book.  Every single thought of mine is yours to keep.  You always keep them.  I admire you for that, I know it's not always easy.

“You are going to keep changing my life, and it's always for the better.  I know it.  I love everything you do.  Because of that, I want to be here to keep making your world better, do the best that I can, as your husband, as someone who has so much respect for you, as someone who will take care of you for eternity, through everything we could imagine.”

Brendon smiled, listening to him, in awe of the words.  Ryan's eyes were watering, and he took a deep breath as he finished speaking.

The rain was heavy now, Brendon could feel his hair stuck against his face, soaked.  Ryan's was the same, but he still looked beautiful.  Brendon always thought he did.

As soon as Brendon extracted the paper which contained his vows, water was dripping right through it.  The wind ruffled it, and it almost fluttered out of Brendon's hands.  The corners kept folding to cover up the words, and the paper steadily grew damper.

Heart beating wildly, he crumpled the paper up and shoved it in his pocket.  Ryan quirked an eyebrow up at him, biting his lip and smiling.  Brendon smiled back, and seeing Ryan made it all okay.

“Hi, Ryan,” he began, voice only barely higher than a whisper.  “My gorgeous lover.  I only want to spend every waking moment with you, every day.  Forever.  I've already had almost everything I want with you, but it hasn't been long enough.

“I want you to know that I am always here.  I am here to love you and care for you and I would do anything for you.  I promise for it to always be that way.”  He gulped.  He wanted nothing more than to reach over and grasp onto Ryan's hands, but he forced himself to wait, to keep talking.  He had to get it out.  “You're so perfect for me.  I could never want anything else.  Forever, I will be in love with you.  It is a horrible thing to think about us parting, and if we must, I will constantly be thinking about returning to you.

“I have to be with you.  And, since I'm going to be your husband, it will never be a problem.  I will love you until the day I die.  Even then, I'll still be holding your hand, and I want to be buried beside you.  I can't stand the thought of there being a moment of us apart, and so, I'm marrying you.”

Brendon's breath hitched.  It was all a blur after that, and Brendon was relieved he got the words out.  All of it was paraphrased from the vows he wrote, far from memorized, but he said all the important things.  Ryan was nearly in tears beside him.  When the words, “I do,” left Brendon's lips, they were mute to him, but when they came off Ryan's, Brendon heard it loud and clear.

Then, finally,  _ finally _ , Ryan was kissing him, and Brendon was liquid in his arms.  Ryan's clothes were wet and cold against Brendon's body.  They pulled away faster than Brendon would have liked, but he had the consolation that there would be thousands upon thousands of kisses in the future.

Brendon couldn't even remember when he slipped a ring on Ryan's finger—that was all a fuzzy place in his mind—but he paid attention to Ryan's hands holding his for his own wedding ring to be fitted on him.  Despite the cold rain, the water he could feel soaking through his clothes and running down his chest and spine, Brendon grinned at the feeling of the metal on his skin.

Ryan reached over and locked their fingers together.  Brendon squeezed his hand.  They walked back down the aisle, away from the water, fleeing from the rain and wind to the shelter where their reception would be held.

Brendon felt like it had been forever since he’d seen Ryan, and felt the need to catch up with him.  “So, how has your day been?” Brendon asked.

Ryan laughed.  “It's been pretty damn good, B.”

It was much warmer under the covering, although they were technically still outside.  The guests were soaking wet, shivering, and Brendon was profusely apologetic.  Somewhat flustered, he made his way around to everyone, to talk for a moment and say sorry for the rain.  That was, until, Ryan's voice was soft in his ear—“Come dance with me?”

“Oh, is it that time of the night already?” Brendon asked.

“Mm hmm.”  Ryan's body was fitted into Brendon's back, his arms around Brendon's waist and his nose in the nape of Brendon's neck.  Brendon closed his eyes, settling into Ryan's touch.

Ryan took Brendon's hand and led him out into the open.  Brendon knew everyone's eyes were on them, but he didn't feel too exposed.  He slipped a hand over Ryan's shoulder, the other in Ryan's own palm, as the music began playing around them.

Their first dance as a married couple was to  _ Diamonds and Gold _ by Tom Waits, one of Ryan's favorite songs in existence.  He loved it so much that he had lyrics from it tattooed on his wrists. Brendon knew how much it meant when he picked it out for the wedding.  They swayed together, languidly, not really dancing.  Ryan hummed a bit, brushing noses with Brendon as he looked in his eyes.

Ryan kissed him at the end of the song.  Brendon couldn't stop smiling.  This caused Ryan to look at him somewhat suspiciously, and he skimmed his fingers over Brendon's cheek.  “What's this?” Ryan asked, allowing one finger to drop over Brendon's lips.  “Did you smoke something before we got here?  I didn't think I could smell it on you . . .”

“No, no, I would like to remember our wedding night clearly, actually.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.”

“And why’s that?”

“Well, okay, I just married the love of my life, who looked too fucking beautiful, I always want to remember that.  I feel good enough right now that I don't want weed or beer or any of that shit.  And, and—” Brendon's voice dropped down to a whisper—“tonight we’re gonna have the best fuck of our lives, because we’re married and in love.  I just want to feel you all over me, baby.”

“Have something planned?” Ryan whispered back.

“Maybe,” Brendon said, smile turning more devious.

Ryan's eyes lingered on Brendon's lips for a moment, before he turned Brendon around to look at the tables of food and drinks set up across the floor.  “So, I'm guessing you won't take a shot of some of that whiskey over there?  Not even mixed in a drink?  Or even a glass of champagne to celebrate?”

“You're a bad influence, Ryan Ross.”

“Maybe you should've thought that through before marrying me, sweetheart.”

“You typically don't encourage me to get smashed,” Brendon countered.

“I'm not.  I'm just saying the married life has really dulled your partying skills,” Ryan teased.

“Oh, shut up.  We can have drinks if you want.”

Ryan smiled against Brendon's neck.  “Just some champagne,” Ryan said.

Brendon nodded in agreement, leading the way to the drinks.  Each of them had a glass of champagne, and they took seats at an empty table.  The tablecloths were ivory, seeming bright due to the lighting of the venue, casting a yellowish glow on everything.  Of course Ryan remained angelic looking, but Brendon was struck by how he could see Ryan as the man he woke up beside every morning, the one with effortless good looks and exquisite beauty, the one Brendon felt most comfortable around, the one who worried for Brendon if Brendon ever complained . . .

“I can't stop staring at you, B,” Ryan said, and it temporarily tore Brendon away from his thoughts.  He blinked at Ryan's admiring eyes, taken aback by Ryan's words.  “You're too perfect.”

“Thank you, but, really—”

“Just take the compliment,” Ryan whispered, smiling.

“I was just gonna say that I haven't been able to stop staring at you, either, Ryan, I can't even tell you how beautiful you are.”

Ryan shook his head.  “I got really nervous after you walked away earlier, when I was alone with just Pete and Spence, I admit it.  And it was all because I didn't think I would compare to how good you would look, or how perfect your vows would be.  And, I mean, I was right, because you're just breathtaking.  But I love you, I love you so much, that I stop being nervous when I see you.”

The one who would love him without a doubt.

Brendon bit his lip, already having gotten emotional during their vows.  “I love you, too,” Brendon said.  “I kinda freaked out when I saw you walk down the aisle.  I couldn't have even imagined how good you would look.”

“I could say the same for you.”

Brendon wrapped an arm around Ryan's shoulders, squeezing him a bit.  “I'm glad we have so many people to take pictures.  They're gonna be all over the house, babe, I can picture it.  Like, I'll just have to stop and fucking stare at a picture of you in the kitchen, because, like, I mean, look at you.  How could I not?”

Ryan smiled, and Brendon could tell Ryan's cheeks were going pink with the compliments.  “I can't believe I got this far with you.  I don't know what I did to deserve you—”

“Hey, sorry to interrupt but . . .” Both Ryan and Brendon turned around at the sound of the voice behind them.  It was Spencer, smiling widely at them.

“Spence!  Hey, do you wanna sit down?” Brendon invited, gesturing to the empty chairs across the table from himself.

“No, no, I'm actually about to go give a speech or whatever about you guys, and I was just wondering . . .”

Ryan nodded.  “What’s up?”

“I never asked—who's taking who's last name?”

Ryan and Brendon looked at each other, shaking their heads.  “Neither.  We’re keeping our own.  It's too much of a hassle to have it legally changed, and we probably wouldn't be able to decide on something, anyway,” Brendon said.  Ryan hummed in agreement.

“Okay, cool, thank you.  Great job with the vows, by the way,” Spencer added, before walking away.

Brendon beamed.  The whole room quieted down to listen to what Spencer had to say.

“I have known Ryan since we were little kids, and he's been my best friend, naturally.  We've grown up together, we’ve been through a lot together, Ryan and I.  I've had all the details about every single crush and break up Ryan's ever had, and he's known the same for me.  But after the band started, there were a couple years there where I heard nothing about that kind of thing from Ryan, even though he'd had a couple girlfriends, a few little flings.  And, uh, that silence was broken when Ryan called me in the middle of the night, years ago now, and said to me, ‘I'm in love with Brendon.’  He was so scared of that, and look where we are now?

“I didn't meet Brendon until my junior year of high school, and he was kinda off the wall, but Ryan took interest in him, so I gave him the chance.  Turns out, Brendon Urie is one of the greatest people I know, and there really shouldn't have been any surprise when him and Ryan fell for each other.  It made so much sense.  I've been expecting this to happen since I found out Ryan had a desperate crush.”  Spencer laughed, and so did Ryan, though he was blushing and looking anywhere besides Brendon's eyes.  “Brendon's taken good care of that, though.  None of that pining was necessary.  Brendon makes Ryan the happiest he could be, and what else could I ask for in a husband of Ryan's?  Nothing.  And there's nobody else out there who could do a better job than Brendon at that, so, congratulations, you two.  I love you guys.”

People clapped, including Brendon.  Ryan was still looking embarrassed, but he squeezed Brendon's fingers under the table.

“You called Spencer in the middle of the night to tell him you loved me?  That's really sweet, Ryan,” Brendon said.

“It was horrible,” Ryan insisted.

“Why?”

“I was still with Keltie, and I was staying with her for like, a week or something.  I just missed you, and it was awful, because I always  _ wanted _ to love her, you know?”

Brendon could have been jealous at the statement, and there was a point in his life where he definitely would have been.  He knew now that it wasn't rational to be.  Ryan was sensitive, as a person—he had a huge heart, and he never wanted to break anyone else’s, no matter what his own personal gain would be.  Brendon was simply full of love and respect for him.

He nipped at Ryan's neck, getting his thoughts back to the present.  Ryan allowed him to trail kisses along his neck and jaw, even rubbing Brendon's back while he did so.  His lips were eventually met with the collar of Ryan's shirt, and Brendon growled under his breath.  “I can't wait to get you naked,” he said, just so Ryan could hear him, before he could even think about the words coming out of his mouth.

Ryan chuckled.  “Soon, lover.  What're you gonna do once we get there?”

“It's a surprise,” Brendon said, kissing the corner of Ryan's lips.

“I hope,” Ryan said, bringing a hand down to rest on Brendon's thigh, “it involves you getting naked, too.”

“We’ll see,” Brendon said with a smirk.  Ryan discreetly kneaded his thigh for a moment before pulling away completely.

“Cake,” Ryan said, “and then we go back to the hotel.  How does that sound?”

“Sounds good.”

Ryan stood, and stooped to kiss Brendon deeply as an afterthought.  “Do you want anything else to eat or drink before we go?” Ryan asked.

Brendon shook his head.  The night seemed to have passed so quickly—it seemed only moments ago that he was watching Ryan walk down the aisle.  It had been hours.  Ryan returned with two slices of cake and another kiss.

“I know cake isn't really your thing, but, Brendon, it's our wedding cake, you have to at least try some,” Ryan said.

“I will, I will,” Brendon said.

As Ryan sat next to him, Brendon picked up a fork and took a bite of the chocolate cake.  “Pure fucking sugar,” Brendon commented, grimacing around the excessive frosting.  “I shouldn't have expected anything else when I let you pick the cake.”  He scooped up another bite with his fork, and held it out towards Ryan, only to purposely smudge frosting on his nose.

Ryan looked shocked, before cracking a smile.  “Just for that, this is mine now,” he said, taking Brendon's cake from him.

“Fine.  I don't know how you can choke that shit down, anyway.”

“This is gourmet shit, Brendon.  We paid good money to have this done.”

“As long as you're happy, Ryan,” Brendon said, only half-joking.

They took another hour or so to thank everyone for coming to the wedding, to say goodbye for the time being.  Everyone else was flying back home the next day.  “We’ve got the whole city to ourselves,” Ryan liked to say to Brendon.

Brendon sighed and took one last look around the venue while everyone wandered out.  Ryan had an arm around Brendon's waist, fingers caressing at Brendon's hip.  It was a reminder that while Brendon may have been happy with where they were, Ryan was going to make him feel much, much better when they were back in their suite.

They were the last people out of the parking lot, and Ryan drove.  As soon as they were on their way, Ryan asked, “So, what's the surprise?”

With a hint of smugness, Brendon said, “It’s our wedding night.  You'll get your surprise soon, I promise.”

Stopped at a red light, Ryan toyed with the buttons on Brendon's suit jacket, and pushed one open.  “Well, I don't know if I can wait, baby boy,” Ryan insinuated.

“Patience,” Brendon said.  He redid the button, brushing the fabric lightly.  “I've been wanting you all day, but I keep my hands to myself, mostly.”

The whole air of the conversation had quickly turned sultry, sexual, but that was no problem with Brendon, that was exactly where he wanted it to go.

“And is there really any need for that, my love?” Ryan asked, hand moving back to the familiar place on Brendon's thigh.

“Public decency,” Brendon shot back, and Ryan laughed.

“Of course.”  Ryan put both hands back on the steering wheel.  “I guess I'll just have to wait for you, then, even if you want me like you say.”

It was Brendon's turn to laugh, even if Ryan was trying to lure him in.  “The wait will make it better.  I promise.”

Ryan tapped his fingers on the wheel.  “Whatever you say.  I trust you.”

Brendon was pleased with that answer.  He was pleased with the whole situation, with how he had the control for the time being.  It was quite rare, but it was nice to change it up a bit, to completely seduce Ryan on his own.

He felt confident with his plan for the night, holding Ryan's hand and leading him to the suite.  Ryan followed without a word, only slightly heavy breaths being emitted from what Brendon heard.  That was good—the quicker he could get Ryan worked up for him, the better.

With a lack of coordination, Brendon unlocked the door with the room key and tugged Ryan inside.  No time was wasted; Brendon latched his lips onto Ryan's immediately, running his fingers through Ryan's hair and messing it up.  Ryan's touches started by cupping the back of Brendon's neck, pulling him in closer, but his fingers were rapidly moving down Brendon's back, and didn't stop.  Brendon gasped, muffled against Ryan's lips, when Ryan squeezed his ass.

Taking a moment to breathe, adjust himself against Ryan's hand, and flip on a dim light, Brendon could see Ryan's eyes wide, pupils dilated already.  Brendon dove back in, kissing Ryan with an open mouth.  Ryan sighed, his fingers moving across Brendon's hips and ass, feeling him up and pressing into the skin.  Brendon relished the touch, recognizing with the heat of it how much Ryan appreciated his body.  On instinct, Brendon was pressing his tongue into Ryan's mouth, while Ryan fought to bite Brendon's lip.  Brendon gave into the fight, willing to let Ryan bite his lips raw.

It was when Ryan's hips bucked forward, and Brendon felt how hard he was, that Brendon pulled away.  Ryan was panting, and it brought the smirk back to Brendon's face.  “Come on,” Brendon breathed, and was leading Ryan to the bed in seconds.

Ryan followed him, but this time asked, “What're you gonna do?”

“You'll see.”

At the side of the bed, Brendon kissed him again, this time letting Ryan grind against him for a few seconds.  With Ryan's eyes shut, Brendon gently shoved him to sit on the bed, from his shoulders.  To look up at Brendon, Ryan's eyes fluttered, and Brendon loved that look, loved how he could make Ryan like this.

Brendon reached out to tug on Ryan's silvery bow tie, and whispered in his ear, “I'm gonna go take these wedding clothes off, make sure they're all nice and neat.  I'm sure you understand, but . . .” Brendon had the bow tie undone, and pulled it off.  “I want you to stay here, stay looking as  _ tempting  _ in these clothes as you do, and I'll be right back.”

Ryan nodded.  “Okay.  Don't take forever.”

Brendon flashed a smile, and shrugged.  Ryan darkly looked up at him, and, yeah, Brendon really did know better than to tease Ryan, but it was a lot of fun to rile him up.

He hurried into the bathroom, where he had a certain, special bag stored, and closed the door.  Without further ado, he stripped down, completely naked, laying his clothes out neatly on the counter.  He took a deep breath, and opened the duffle bag he’d hidden under the bathroom counter.

Upon unzipping it, he had a stark, blatant reminder of the dangerous game he had played—could he or could he not get a variety of sex toys past airport security, could he or could he not get the bag full of them past Ryan without him noticing?  He certainly could, and was going to use that to his benefit through their whole honeymoon.

For their wedding night, though, he had a plan of what he was going to use.  He forewent the excessive amount of things in the bag to find an ivory lace lingerie set—complete with a bra, panties, suspender belt, stockings, and even high heels.

Ryan was going to be wrecked just at the sight of him, Brendon knew.

Before putting anything on, Brendon grasped onto the counter with one hand, and stroked his cock with the other, getting himself almost all the way hard.  He closed his eyes, thinking of all the things Ryan would do to him, and stopped touching himself.  That was enough.

He looked at himself in the mirror as he pulled the panties up over his thighs, then ass, and struggled to get his hard cock inside the fabric.  He succeeded, and achieved the look he wanted, with his hard on straining the fabric.

After that, he moved on to pull the suspender belt up over his waist, the lacy material the same as the panties.  The tendrils of fabric that acted as clasps for stockings hung down his thighs, so Brendon knew that the pure white stockings were next.

He rolled them up over his legs, careful with the fragile material.  It didn't matter much—if the fabric was as fragile as Brendon thought, then the stockings would be torn up by the end of the night.  The suspender belt clasped onto the tops of them, pulling them farther up his thighs.  He didn't pause for reflection, reaching for the bra.

The bra had padding—a minimal amount, but still padded—and was small enough that it fit almost perfectly around Brendon's flat chest.  It was a necessary piece of the set, covering his body up just a bit more, and matching with the rest of the lingerie.  The lace was so intricate, and the ivory color was delicate but beautiful.

The heels were white, and had straps and buckles.  Brendon took his time putting them on, making sure they looked as flawless as everything else.  As he stood up straight, he was a few inches taller than normal, and Brendon smiled.  It gave him extra control.

At least it wasn't the first time he’d done this.  He was confident and balanced in the heels, not wobbly at all, and it wasn't any less natural than walking flat-footed.  They simply gave his hips more of a sway when he walked, and made his ass look great, if he could say that about himself.

The whole lingerie set made him look desirable, attractive,  _ hot _ , Brendon understood.  This was his surprise for Ryan, and he knew it was a good one.  Ryan loved it when he dressed up like this, and really, so did Brendon.  It made him feel good about himself, and something about the material of panties just felt so good against his skin, against his cock.

He checked himself out in the mirror, but he could tell there was something missing.  He frowned, trying to remember what he hadn't put on, and it occurred to him when he looked at the wedding ring on his finger.  Bending to search around in the bag again, Brendon found what he was looking for—a long, traditional veil.

It would've looked lovely with a wedding dress with a train.  The color was such a bright white.  A headband went through Brendon's hair, almost like a tiara, with how it was decorated with bright jewels.  The veil attached to it, and it ran down Brendon's back, draping all the way down his body to the floor.

That was special.

After all, it was their wedding night.

Brendon looked at his reflection one last time, noticing how curvaceous his hips looked.  Everything had fallen into place, and now it was time to show himself off to his new husband.

He slowly made the walk out to the bedroom, the veil trailing on the floor behind him.  Ryan hadn't moved from where Brendon left him, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Ryan looked up and saw Brendon, to which a lust-filled smile spread across his face.  Brendon kept his arms at his side, standing up straight, giving Ryan a full view.  Ryan's eyes wandered all over his body, taking in the sight before him.

“My, my,” Ryan said, “you really are a pretty one, aren't you?”  Ryan's voice didn't waver at all, and his tone stayed even—he was ready to take control, and expected Brendon to answer submissively, to maybe nod bashfully and wait for Ryan to touch him.  Brendon was tempted to do just that, but this time, he wasn't ready to give up control just yet.

“As pretty as they come,” Brendon said with a grin.  “And you can't wait to have me.”  Brendon strutted over to Ryan, and swung a leg over his lap.  Ryan looked up at him with raised eyebrows.  “Isn't that right?” Brendon asked, as he sat himself in Ryan's lap.  He faced Ryan, his arms around Ryan's neck and his legs bent around Ryan's hips.  His heels pressed into the mattress, giving him leverage to rub his ass down on Ryan's hard cock, through his pants.

“I think I already do have you, my beautiful bride.”  Ryan touched the veil, the faux jewels at the top of his head, examining them with a look of awe on his face.  Brendon felt warmth spread down his spine at Ryan's words, but he was going to remain composed.

“And I think you might have to work a little harder to have me.  You might have to make me yours.”  He continued circling his hips, and Ryan bucked up against him, hard enough to startle Brendon and jostle him.  Brendon knew Ryan wanted more control over him, probably just wanted to pin him to the bed and fuck him, but Brendon wasn't giving himself over so easily.  He loved to work Ryan up—it made the sex even better.

“My pretty little songbird,” Ryan clucked, looking up into Brendon's eyes with dark, deep lust, “I already have.”

Ryan's hands curled around Brendon's hips, and Brendon smacked them away.  “No, no, you don't get to touch me yet.”

Ryan smirked at him, considering, before taking his hands off Brendon.  “Okay.  Fine, then.  Have fun getting yourself off,” Ryan replied.  Brendon's stomach dropped.  Ryan leaned up, so his chest was nearly touching Brendon's.  “What're you gonna do?  Hmm? Just give me a lap dance, looking all pretty and fuckable, and wait for me to come?  That doesn't seem like much fun.  Not when there's so much I want to do to you, Brendon.  Then what will you do for yourself?  Because now I'm not allowed to touch you, or so you say.  Will you take care of yourself, thinking about me?  Will you finger yourself, thinking about how it could be me fucking you, and get off on it?  Why would you settle for that, baby boy, when you could have the real thing?”

Brendon's hips faltered to move, before he began grinding down with the new intent of getting friction to his own hard cock.  Ryan was right; Ryan had won.  The act was all pointless to keep up when he knew Ryan would take good care of him, give him what we wanted.  Brendon nodded, his lips brushing against Ryan's.  “Take me,” Brendon said, and his voice was wispy.

“That's what I thought.”  Ryan's fingers played along Brendon's lower back, skimming over the waistband of the lace panties.  “Your lap dances are wonderful, though.  I might be asking for them more if you keep acting like that.”

Brendon continued grinding down against Ryan, rubbing his cock against Ryan's hipbones.  He was more turned on than he normally would have been, due to the lace against his skin giving him extra stimulation.  Ryan was touching him, thumbs pressing into the dimples of his back.  Brendon's breathing was fast, and his attempts to hold himself together were rapidly slipping away.

“Stand up before you wreck these clothes,” Ryan said, his voice breathy.

Before doing as Ryan said, Brendon ran his hands over Ryan's chest.  He bowed his head, hanging onto Ryan's jacket, and kissed him, breathing heavily through it.  Ryan pushed up into the kiss, mouth opening against Brendon's, biting down on his bottom lip, hard.  Brendon whined, high in his throat, and Ryan pulled away.

Ryan's lips were wet and always, always drawing Brendon in, his hair was tousled so attractively, his eyes were shining and taking Brendon apart.  “Up,” Ryan repeated, chest heaving.

Brendon swung his legs off Ryan's lap, balancing his weight back on the high heels.  Ryan stood with him, hands on Brendon's hips.  “You really are mine,” Ryan said, “and I get to touch you as much as I want to.”  Brendon nodded, agreeing, especially as Ryan closed his lips over Brendon's neck.  Because of the heels, Brendon stood about an inch taller than Ryan, which could've given him more power, could've allowed Brendon to seduce Ryan further, with more composure.  But Brendon didn't take the chance, too lost in Ryan's touches.

“You did good, B.  You look so beautiful, all dressed up for me.”  Ryan's hands roamed over Brendon's torso, feeling the lace of the garter belt.

“All for you,” Brendon answered.

“I want you so bad,” Ryan whispered.  He clashed teeth with Brendon when he kissed him this time.  Brendon unbuttoned Ryan's jacket, and Ryan shrugged it off.  “You are so hot, I am so lucky.”

“ _ Ryan _ ,” Brendon groaned, as Ryan's hand came down to touch his cock.

“My pretty boy,” Ryan replied.  “Are you just too turned on?  Your little panties are looking a bit tight.”  It didn't help that Ryan's fingertips were running along the underside of his cock, through the fabric.

“Yes, please, oh—”

“You've been hard for a while, haven't you?  Just about begging me to touch you.”  Brendon's cock twitched, and he grew even harder.  He felt the head of his cock pop right over the frilly waistband, and he groaned.  Ryan looked down, and bit his lip.  “You can't even keep yourself covered,” Ryan teased.

“Fuck, fuck,” he said.  With new motivation, he unbuttoned Ryan's slacks, and pushed the zipper down.  Ryan wasn't protesting, only making a quiet noise when Brendon's knuckles brushed his cock.

Ryan's hand left Brendon's cock, in order to get his own pants off.  “Please, no, don't stop touching me, fuck,” Brendon blurted out.

“I know, B, I can barely keep my hands off you, hang on.”

It was only a few seconds until Ryan's cock was out, and he bucked his hips forward until it was pressed against lace, pressed against Brendon's own cock.  “So hot,” Ryan breathed.

Brendon's hands were trembling from the feeling of Ryan's cock rubbing against his, and he was fumbling with the buttons of Ryan's vest.  He couldn't get it off of him fast enough, it seemed.  “Too many clothes, why,” Brendon muttered.

“I know, I know, I'm sorry.  I don't even want to take all this off you, you're s-so pretty.”

“Don't take it off, leave it all, it'll be fine.”  Brendon pushed Ryan's vest off, immediately starting on the buttons of his shirt.

Ryan squeezed Brendon's hips as they rutted against each other.  “I'm gonna ruin all this pretty lace, then,” Ryan said.  Brendon worked open the last button of Ryan's shirt, and Ryan slipped out of it.

“Why?” Brendon asked, breathless, having Ryan's naked body right there, pressed up on him.

“I'm gonna fuck you so hard, these pretty panties’ll break.”

Brendon moaned.  Ryan was steering him to the bed, one hand cupping his ass, the other splayed across the bare expanse of skin between the garter belt and bra.

“Hands and knees, my pretty baby,” Ryan said to him, “I wanna see that ass when I'm fucking you.”

Brendon crawled on the bed, turning away from Ryan to do as he asked.  The veil Brendon wore draped over his back, over his ass, and gathered on the bed.

“You look so good, you have no idea.”  Brendon felt the mattress shift with Ryan's weight behind him, and he felt the veil rise off his skin.  Ryan hovered over him, and Brendon looked back to see Ryan carefully handling the veil.  He moved closer to Brendon's front, carrying the excess fabric, and started winding it around Brendon's arm.  “You make such a perfect bride,” Ryan whispered in his ear.  The veil was spiraled all the way down his arm, and Ryan let the rest fall by his hand.

“You make such a perfect tease,” Brendon retorted, impatiently arching his back.

Ryan chuckled.  “Okay, okay,” he said.  He patted Brendon's ass, then was reaching into the bedside table.  Brendon hadn't put lube there, so obviously, Ryan had been planning for this, too.  For a brief moment, Brendon wished he had fingered himself open before putting on the lingerie, because he just wanted Ryan's cock inside him already.  But then, he felt his panties being moved aside, and two slick fingers were pushing into him and all of Brendon's thoughts were gone, out the window, non-existent.

Ryan thrusted his fingers in and out of him, a couple times, before hitting Brendon's prostate.  Brendon gasped, and pushed back on Ryan's fingers, Ryan's long fingers.  They stretched him open well enough, and it felt good, but it could be better—“Please, Ryan, fuck, that's good, but please—”

Brendon spread his legs further, and heard Ryan groan.  He felt it as soon as the head of Ryan's cock pressed against his ass, not even pushing into him, but on the lace.  Ryan rubbed his cock along the panties, down Brendon's skin.  “Are you gonna beg for me?” Ryan asked.

“Please, Ryan, please, I need you—” Brendon pleaded, shamelessly.

“Fuck, Brendon—” Brendon was convinced for one long moment that Ryan was simply going to rub himself off against Brendon's skin, not even get to fucking him, but then Brendon felt him shift, and Ryan was slowly sinking into him.

Brendon whined and rocked his hips back.  Ryan squeezed his hips to still him.  It was still a stretch for Brendon to take Ryan's cock, but it was intoxicating.  He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, and Ryan nipped at his shoulder.

“You are so fucking perfect, so good for me,” Ryan groaned.  Brendon felt Ryan's fingertips on his lower back again, and the skin felt sensitive to him.  Ryan pulled out, the head of his cock still stretching Brendon's tight ring of muscle, and slammed back in with more force than the first time.  Brendon cried out, grasping desperately onto the fabric of the veil and the sheets.

“Ryan, Ryan,” Brendon panted, dropping his head down.

“Your poor little panties,” Ryan tsked.  “I'm gonna make you come so hard it'll wreck your whole outfit.”

Brendon's vision went blurry as his eyes rolled back, Ryan fucking into him just right.  He managed to get something out in between gasps, to encourage Ryan to continue.  All he could really tell he was saying was “please” and “Ryan.”

“You feel so good,” Ryan said, “fuck, you look so good, you  _ sound _ so good—” Ryan groaned—“I love you.”

Brendon answered in a slew of moans, growing louder when Ryan reached underneath him to cup his cock through his panties.  Ryan's long fingers stretched the length of his cock, and up to his navel, feeling both the exposed and covered skin with his flat palm.  His thumb found the head of Brendon's cock, unconcealed, and pressed into the slit.

Between Ryan touching the most sensitive part of Brendon's body, and fucking him right to his prostate, Brendon was getting close to coming.  Ryan was thrusting into him fast enough, hard enough, that Brendon couldn't even push back into it if he tried.

“Ryan, Ryan, I'm gonna c-come, if you don't stop,” Brendon managed, bringing a hand up to still Ryan's touches to his cock.

Ryan grabbed Brendon's hand, holding it to his cock, guiding him to touch himself.  “Go ahead, get yourself off,” Ryan spurred.  He kept his hand over Brendon's, pushing him in the direction of white hot pleasure.  “You're gonna look even prettier covered in come, pretty boy.”

Ryan's fingers swept over the head of Brendon's cock, at the same time as Brendon wrapped his hand around himself, and it was all over.  His body went weak and limp as he came over his own and Ryan's hands, head spinning.

“Do you even hear yourself?  You sound so desperate,” Ryan whispered.  He bucked his hips into Brendon, one more time, and Brendon could feel Ryan's come inside of him soon after.

Brendon was out of breath, and his mind was reeling with the bliss that came after an orgasm.  Ryan's hand left his stomach when he pulled out, leaving Brendon in his panties, getting soaked with Ryan's come leaking out of him.  Brendon shivered at the feeling, a certain heat flickering in him.  It was quickly put out with utter exhaustion, and he collapsed forward onto his front with a sigh.

He was fairly uncomfortable—the bra straps were tight and unfamiliar, the garter belt had come all over it, his panties were stretched and fitted on him awkwardly from how Ryan had them situated, his stockings were clinging to his skin from sweating, and the high heels plainly were awful to wear for long periods of time.  Even with all of it, he only shifted slightly, sinking farther into the mattress, the rough material of the veil pressed against his chest.

“You okay there?” Ryan asked him.

“Uh huh,” Brendon said, nodding against the sheets.

“Do—do you want help getting out of all that?”

Brendon nodded again, feeling too drained to do much else at the moment. 

“Okay, I've got you,” Ryan assured, and Brendon let his eyelids close.  He felt his high heels getting looser, and then removed, heard them being tossed somewhere.  Next, relief came in his bra being unclasped, allowing his skin to breathe.  Careful fingers pushed the straps off his shoulders.

Ryan nudged his hip, gesturing for him to turn over.  Brendon complied, groaning in protest.  “I know you're tired, but we’re almost done, I promise,” Ryan said, soothing him.  The bra came off.  Lower on his body, the stockings were unclasped from the garter, and they were slowly rolled off him.  The panties and suspender belt were next, coming off together, as Brendon only had to lift his hips once.

Lastly, the long veil was tangled around his body, from his hair down to his legs.  Ryan removed the headpiece, but with it came too many strands of Brendon's hair, and he winced.  “Shit, I'm really sorry, B,” Ryan said, quickly leaning up to kiss the top of his head.

“It's alright, love.”

The veil was gone too, and Brendon laid there, exposed, but feeling safe with Ryan over him.  “Can you stand?” Ryan asked.

Brendon nodded.  He wasn't  _ that  _ shaky.

“Then let's go clean up.  We’ll sleep better if we do.”  Brendon knew Ryan was right, not that he wanted to admit it.  He allowed Ryan to help him up, and he stretched his limbs before they could start aching.

There was no point in taking turns showering.  The shower was large, and they shared bottles of shampoo, so they cleaned up together.  Ryan helped him out more than usual, with a hand on his back, but that was to be expected after sex like they just had.

They slept naked, crashing as soon as they laid down.  Or, at least Brendon did.  He rested his left hand on his own chest before drifting off, in order to feel his wedding ring, and to be thinking about how much he loved Ryan right before falling asleep.

<<<<<>>>>>

The next morning, Brendon woke up absolutely starving.  He wasn't particularly surprised, because he barely had anything to eat the day before, but it was nearly nauseating.

Ryan was sound asleep beside him, laying on his front, side of his face pressed into the pillow, and an arm draped over Brendon's waist.  Brendon relaxed at the peaceful sight of him, staying in bed to formulate a plan.  He could put on some clothes, order breakfast with room service, and he wouldn't have to wake Ryan up for any of it.

He expertly slipped out from under Ryan's arm, and Ryan didn't stir.  With that, he got as far as going into the bathroom and putting on a pair of sweatpants before he heard a drowsy call of, “Brendon?”

Knowing he had to answer to Ryan, Brendon went back to him.  Ryan had pushed himself up on one elbow, the sheets still over him.  His hair was a mess, and his eyelids hung more than halfway down his eyes, obviously not all the way awake.

“Need something, baby?” Brendon asked, an amused grin coming to his face.

“Come back to bed, please,” Ryan requested, sweetly.

Brendon giggled.  “Just go back to sleep,” he said.

“Brenny-bear,” Ryan protested, and pouted at Brendon.

Really?  Ryan pouting?  Ridiculous.  Pathetic.  But what could Brendon do?  Disappoint Ryan?  Make his pout real?  Refuse him?

Of course not.

Brendon crawled back in bed, and Ryan was instantly hugging Brendon close, both arms securely around Brendon's torso.  He let himself be held, Ryan's nose pressed into his hair.  “You know how much I hate waking up without you,” Ryan murmured.

Brendon understood.  As Ryan's breathing evened back out behind him, Brendon let himself go, as well, ignoring anything else in favor of laying with his lover, his new husband.  The extra rest wasn't going to hurt him.  Under the covers, wrapped up in Ryan's arms, Brendon was warm, and he didn't try to fight off sleep.

Ryan laid still, but was awake when Brendon awoke again.  Brendon was surprised to see his light brown eyes open and looking at him, and he blinked a few times.  “Good morning,” Ryan whispered.

“Good morning.  You're in a cuddly mood,” Brendon noted, as he was still pressed up against Ryan's chest.

Ryan thumbed the skin of his back.  “Yeah, I don't know.”  He held Brendon tighter, nuzzling his face into Brendon's hair.

“It's nice,” Brendon said, “but I am going to, like, pass out if I don't order food.”

“Then order some food,” Ryan said.  He reluctantly let go of Brendon, and Brendon rolled over to pick up the phone off the bedside table.  Before Brendon could even ask what Ryan wanted, Ryan said, “Just get two of whatever you're having.”

Brendon did so, and threw on a tank top to answer the door.  Ryan stayed in bed; Brendon brought their two plates back to him, and sat back down beside him.  They shared pancakes and coffee, Brendon leaning against Ryan's side the whole time.  “This was good,” Ryan said, and kissed Brendon's temple.  Their plates were set aside on the nightstands, and Ryan wrapped an arm around Brendon's front, pulling him in even closer.

“I love you,” Brendon said, automatic.  Those were some of the few words that he could let slip past his lips without a thought, and have them be genuine and real.

“I love you too.”

Relaxed, Brendon closed his eyes, reflecting on the day they had yesterday.  He could officially say he was married to Ryan now, and it felt so rewarding.

“I don't really feel like going anywhere today.  I just want to stay in with you,” Ryan said.

“Good, because I'm definitely not getting up right now,” Brendon agreed.

Brendon's hips ached, only slightly, whenever he moved.  It gave him a sharp reminder of what they did last night, how Ryan had taken him apart.  The thought of it sent a shiver up Brendon's spine.  Ryan always knew how to make him feel so good . . .

He shifted, slumping down in bed, still rested against Ryan's side.  Their honeymoon had only just began, so Brendon was sure there would be more nights like the one they had, that it would probably only get better.  There was so much he wanted to try with Ryan, especially now, since they knew each other so well.  With all the things he’d brought, they would be having lots of fun.  Ryan would be so surprised, so impressed—he'd probably praise Brendon every night in bed, and that thought made heat pool in Brendon's stomach.

As much as Brendon liked the thought of springing new things on Ryan, without telling him, he knew that it would be the other way around.  Brendon would let Ryan do what he wanted with him, would simply submit to him.  Ryan had the perfect amount of control and dominance Brendon liked, so there was no reason for him to resist it.

It was only a matter of time until Ryan was fucking him again, and Brendon was definitely looking forward to it.  Ryan was only innocently holding Brendon, around the waist, but Brendon was half hard in his sweatpants, letting his thoughts run wild.  Ryan was right there, so close to touching him.

Mindlessly, Ryan slipped his fingers under Brendon's tank top, resting his hand on Brendon's chest.  Brendon knew he only wanted to feel the warmth of his skin, that it wasn't meant to be anything heated, but his body tensed.  He sucked in a breath, as Ryan had unknowingly placed his thumb on his nipple, and it was sensitive.  His cock twitched.  He let out a shuddering breath.

Ryan took notice, and looked down at him.  He laughed softly, right in Brendon's ear.  “Someone's aroused,” Ryan said, tone playful and light.

“S-sorry,” Brendon stuttered, as Ryan slowly trailed his hand down Brendon's stomach.

“Don't apologize.  I'm flattered.”

Brendon inhaled sharply as Ryan's fingers slipped past the elastic waistband, tickling the v-shape of his hips.

“You're not even wearing underwear.  What a little slut,” Ryan said.  Brendon's hips bucked up.

“I was just in—in a rush . . .” Brendon tried to explain, futilely.

Ryan circled his fingers around Brendon's cock, eliciting a low, deep groan from Brendon.  “I don't really care.  I kinda like it.  You should've gotten undressed much earlier, anyway.”

Aside from the soft dirty talk, Ryan wasn't teasing him.  He went straight to working Brendon's dick, and Brendon appreciated it, thrusting up into his touch.

“What were you thinking about, B?  What made you hard?” Ryan insinuated.

“L-last night.  How you fucked me,” Brendon choked out.

Ryan clucked at him, sounding fond.  “So, you are a cockslut for me.  A pretty one, at that.”

“Yeah, for you, yeah— _ fuck _ .  Your cockslut.”

“You looked so pretty last night, on your hands and knees for me.  Hell, you look beautiful right now, all worked up for me.”

Brendon pushed his hips up again, a rough noise coming out of his throat.

“Always so needy.  But I've got to ask you, where did that lingerie come from?  I didn't think we remembered to bring any of that—”

“I—I brought almost everything, as much as I could fit in a bag—” Brendon let out a moan—“it was to surprise you.”

“Really,” Ryan breathed, “you think  _ you  _ have that much control over me?”

“N-no.  I know I don't.”

“Good.  Good.  You're so close to coming right now, aren't you?”

Brendon nodded, cursing.

Ryan's hand stopped moving on his cock, and then the touch was gone, and his hand was out of Brendon's pants.  “Since you thought it was okay to hide things from me, you don't get to come right now.  I want you to go bring me everything I didn't know you packed, and if you did well, then I'll let you come.”

All it took were those words, and Brendon was scrambling off the bed, whimpering as the fabric of his sweatpants grazed his cock.

“Be naked when you come back,” Ryan added.

Brendon stripped while he walked.  He was suddenly so glad he was organized, that he had all his shit together in one bag.  Without hesitation, he grabbed it and rushed back to Ryan.

Ryan took the duffle bag, but before opening it, he stared Brendon down.  “You're so easy, Brendon, you know that?  Look how hard you are, just from a few minutes of me touching you.” Brendon nodded along, cheeks heating up at the humiliation, at the thought of how much he liked it.

With that reaction, Ryan looked back to the bag, and opened it.  His face was unreadable and he shuffled through the contents.  After a few moments, he made plain eye contact with Brendon.

“I only want to use wrist restraints right now.  I don't want you touching yourself.”

Brendon could never hold himself together for this part of their foreplay, when Ryan laid out the rules.  The thought of having to obey Ryan's every whim just made him fall completely apart.

Ryan knew this, and took full advantage of it.

“You do everything I ask of you, if you want to be fucked.  And I know you do, you slutty boy.”

Brendon would be jacking himself off and moaning louder than his voice was equipped to handle if Ryan's hadn't just said he couldn't.  His cock was throbbing, he was so hard.  Ryan was right—he was easy, he was a slut.

Flat on the bed, Ryan placed handcuffs, pulling them out of the bag.  He lined up two leather belts next to them, then some rope, and finally a set of chains.  Ryan leaned back against the pillows, looking at Brendon with dark eyes.  “Choose,” Ryan said, gesturing to the assortment of things he set out.

Brendon bit his lip, but decided fairly quickly—“The rope.”  Depending on how Ryan tied him up, the ropes were sure to leave him with, well, rope burn, and he loved that, loved it even more when he could get Ryan to leave hickeys over those bruises from the rope.

It was like a really, really hot bonus if he could get pain out of being tied up as well.  Both of those things made him go weak and tingly, but together—that pressed all kinds of buttons for him.

Ryan hummed his approval at Brendon's choice, and placed the handcuffs, belts, and chains back in the bag.  Twisting the rope around his fingers, he stood up, making his way to be chest to chest with Brendon.  The rope was black and thin, but was rough against the skin, and that was what Brendon desired.  Ryan grabbed Brendon's wrists, pressing them together, and backed Brendon up against the wall.

“So willing,” Ryan said, voice slow, liquid.  He circled the rope around Brendon's right wrist, then around his left.  “You don't even try to resist.”  A knot was tied on top of his wrists, pinned together.  There was still a large length of rope left, and Ryan repeated the pattern of tying the rope, up Brendon's forearms, trapping them together.  It felt tight, and there wasn't any give when he pulled to test the knots.

He looked at Ryan with wide eyes, waiting for him to tell him what to do.  He really had no other option.

Ryan held Brendon's wrists, and with his other hand, pushed Brendon down to his knees by his shoulder.  Brendon bowed his head as soon as his knees hit the floor, and he licked his lips, knowing what he had coming.

“You like this feeling, don't you?  Being all helpless.  You need me to tell you what to do.”

Brendon whimpered, knocking the top of his head against Ryan's thigh.

“I want you to prove to me that you're my cockslut.  You know what to do, baby boy.”

Brendon looked up, meeting Ryan's hazel eyes, and kept the eye contact as he put his lips over the head of Ryan's cock.  Ryan's eyes fluttered shut, a broken moan escaping his lips.  Brendon opened up more to take Ryan's cock down further, inching his way down to the base.

Ryan was hitting the back of Brendon's throat, and Brendon pressed his tongue to the underside of his cock.  Brendon pulled off slightly, only to take him back all the way down.  Ryan kept making these noises, these beautiful sounds, and they went straight to Brendon's cock, leaking on his stomach.

Brendon hollowed his cheeks, sucking his cock in the best way he knew how.  He could tell Ryan was doing his best to not buck his hips forward and gag Brendon, which Brendon appreciated at the moment.  His jaw ached from the effort to keep Ryan's cock in his mouth, but Brendon was as relaxed as he could be.

He closed his own eyes, continuing the motions of his tongue and jaw, but letting his mind wander to how hard he was, how he couldn't do anything about it from being tied up.  Ryan would take care of it eventually—take care of him—and Brendon had to rely on him for that to happen.

Brendon tightened his throat around Ryan's cock, feeling his throat going raw, and Ryan reached down to grip Brendon's hair.  “Fuck, stop, s-stop, I'm gonna come—” Ryan choked out.

With one last swirl of Brendon's tongue, he pulled off, looking up at Ryan expectantly.

“Get up, and I'll fuck you—oh, fuck, you're gorgeous,” Ryan said, voice breathy.  Brendon stood, walking to the bed.  “On your back,” Ryan requested, and Brendon complied.

Ryan took one of the knots around Brendon's arms and pulled them up over his head, Brendon's knuckles hitting the headboard.  Brendon spread his legs, knowing they were moving fast now.  “How bad do you want me to fuck you, B?”

“I just want your cock in me, baby, please—”

Ryan leaned forward to kiss Brendon's lips, biting his bottom lip hard.  “You’re doing so well for me,” Ryan said, reaching around him for the lube.

“Please, please, I want it so bad—” Brendon keened under Ryan's praise.

“I'm gonna give it to you, you're gonna feel so good.”

The prep went quickly with how eager they both were, and Brendon was still stretched and open from the night before.  Ryan pressed his hand hard against Brendon's arms, hard enough to bruise, as he pushed into him.  Brendon felt his aching jaw go slack at the feeling, and his thighs trembled.  He could feel the ropes cutting into his skin as he moved his wrists, squirming restlessly as Ryan fucked him.

Heat flashed through Brendon's body when Ryan hit his prostate, and his fingers curled into fists, muscles in his arms flexing against Ryan's hand.  He cried out, his whole body so sensitive that the pleasure came instensly.  “Right there, huh?” Ryan asked, and thrusted in hard, hitting the same spot again.  Brendon gave a similar reaction, and Ryan grasped onto his hips.

Instead of pulling out most of the way to slam back into Brendon, Ryan stayed inside of him, only subtly rocking his hips.  This made Brendon moan low, almost constant, as the head of Ryan's cock was simply rubbing his prostate.  Brendon's vision was whiting out, but he didn't care, too wrapped up in the pleasure Ryan was giving him.

Brendon's back arched when Ryan's hand came in contact with his cock, which had been neglected for too long.  He bucked up into it, body tensing—he knew he clenched around Ryan's cock as Ryan groaned and dropped his head to Brendon's shoulder—and was coming into Ryan's hand, sending his body shaking.

“That's my good Brendon,” Ryan whispered, and then sighed out a noise of pleasure, coming inside Brendon.

Ryan panted above him, collapsed over his body, breath hot on his neck.  Brendon let his legs fall to the bed from where they were tangled around Ryan's waist, and weakly tried to move his arms, but to no avail.  Ryan finally looked up at him, looking exhausted, and rested his forehead to Brendon's.  He kissed Brendon's lips, lightly, and Brendon barely summoned the energy to kiss back.

“Ryan, baby, will you untie me?”

“Oh, shit, sorry, yeah—here.”  Ryan reached up, untying the rope with strong fingers.  He fumbled a few times, the process taking him longer than when he tied him up to begin with.  Brendon smiled as Ryan laughed with embarrassment.  “I'm the worst, B, I'm sorry, I can't even remember to free my own boyfriend—”

“Husband,” Brendon corrected, grinning even wider.

“Husband,” Ryan repeated, his movements stopping for a moment to consider.  “Husband.  That's worse.  We just got married, and I'm already the worst husband ever, I still can't even undo some rope—”

“Well, at least you're a good fuck,” Brendon joked, looking up at Ryan's struggle.  “It might be loose enough for me to get out now,” Brendon added.

“Yeah, go ahead and try,” Ryan said.

Brendon managed to slip his wrists through the circles of rope, succeeding in getting it tangled around his fingers.  He worked the rest of the knots out of it himself, and tossed the length of rope on the nightstand.  Ryan's eyes followed his movements, and Brendon felt a surge of love for him take over.  He was so perfect, between his stick-like legs straddling Brendon's waist, making him feel warm and comfortable, to his feathery hair, all stuck up at odd angles, giving him a sated, blissful look, and, well.  Brendon couldn't be surprised.

He reached for Ryan, pulling him down into a kiss, deep and slow, full of adoration.  When they pulled away, Ryan looked him in the eyes, and Brendon felt his heart pounding, just a little bit.  That was ridiculous, since they'd been together for so long, Brendon was completely comfortable around him, but he knew he couldn't have fallen in love with anyone better.

“You're so perfect,” Ryan said, “and I feel gross right now.  I never sweat this much.  It must suck kissing me.”

“It's okay,” Brendon laughed.

“I should probably go shower.”

“Take me with you.”

Their shower together was innocent, but as Ryan was tying a towel around his waist, Brendon eyed his naked body, tempted.  Ryan would never turn down a make-out session, Brendon knew, and that could quickly lead to heated touches.  He snuck up behind Ryan, reaching around him to rest a hand on his lower stomach, and kissed his neck and shoulder.  “Come here, kiss me,” Brendon said.

Ryan smiled and turned around, pressing his lips to Brendon's.  Brendon couldn't resist, running his hands along Ryan's bare chest, feeling the body he adored so much.  His hands quickly were gravitated downwards, and it wasn't long before he had a hand wrapped around Ryan's cock, stroking him to get hard again.  Ryan whined—it was a little too soon for him, but Brendon could get him there with some easing.

“We just can't fucking stop, can we?” Ryan said.

“We just can't stop fucking,” Brendon answered, and Ryan smirked.

<<<<<>>>>>

Ryan was right.  They could not stop.

The temptation was right there, since they were hardly ever clothed, and almost always sprawled out on the bed.  On day two of their honeymoon, Brendon awoke to find that one of Ryan's thighs was wedged between his own; Brendon was already hard, and rubbing his erection on Ryan's leg.  Sleep clung to his eyelids, tempting him to drop back off again, but the movement of his hips didn't stop, not that he tried.  It felt too good.  It wasn't until he could keep his eyes open that he became aware of fingers carding through his hair, and an alert pair of of honey eyes watching him awake.

Brendon let out an airy moan, seeing that Ryan knew what he was doing.  “Good morning, sweetheart,” Ryan whispered.  “You're so close, baby boy, you can just let go.”

Brendon supposed Ryan was right, with the way his body felt.  The movements of his hips were quickening, and he became more desperate.  Ryan was simply stroking his hair, and providing his thigh for Brendon to rut against.

He came with a rough cry, voice not awake yet.  It was all over Ryan's leg, but Ryan didn't seem to mind.  “Good boy, B, that's my good little slut.  You were having some nice dreams, weren't you?  You woke me up, just rubbing yourself off against me.”

Brendon blushed with embarrassment—he had assumed Ryan had gotten him hard before he awoke.

“I love seeing you so desperate, so needy for me.  Why don't we try this again, since you're more awake now?” Ryan whispered, his hand creeping down to rest on Brendon's cock.

“You can try—fuck—I don't know if I can go again yet,” Brendon replied, and Ryan began stroking him.  He was too sensitive, it hurt a little bit, but Ryan's hands were talented when it came to Brendon, and he knew what to do.

Ryan teased Brendon's nipples, touching them lightly to get them hard, then pinching, all while Brendon's body betrayed him.  His cock was getting hard, especially when Ryan started twisting his nipples—not too hard, but enough to be painful.  That, of course, made Brendon get hard even faster, and the process accelerated more when Ryan started talking.

“Look at you, such a slutty boy, getting hard so fast.  Like a desperate little teenager.  You're just as pathetic, too, you know that?  Just a little pain, and you're close to coming.  I know you are, slut, you don't have any stamina when I get you like this.  Your body is just so sensitive, I can tell, your little nipples are so hard, you poor thing.”

Brendon tucked his face in Ryan's neck, coming again, with not as much force this time.  Ryan stopped touching Brendon's nipples, his hand petting Brendon's hair, soothingly, instead.  The hand on Brendon's cock remained there, and Brendon groaned.  He knew what Ryan was doing—he was going to see how many times he could get Brendon to orgasm.

Ryan smirked wickedly at Brendon, and sidled down Brendon's body.  “You just come so fast, I've gotta have a little more fun with you,” Ryan said, poking Brendon's inner thigh.  Brendon squirmed a little bit, but allowed Ryan to do what he wanted.

He still whined loudly at Ryan wrapping his lips around his cock.  It hurt more this time, but he found himself thrusting into Ryan's mouth, making him take more.  Ryan did, easily, while stroking Brendon's thighs.  Brendon's cock twitched weakly a few times before he could get hard, but when he did, Ryan made sure to repeatedly tongue over the head.

By the time he came, he was sweating and moaning, and Ryan was all too pleased with himself.

“You can relax now,” Ryan said, pulling the sheets over Brendon's body.  After seeing the look of suspicion on Brendon's face, Ryan added, “I promise.”

Brendon nodded and let the tension slip from his body.  He was pretty exhausted after that, and although he had only woken up moments ago, he felt his eyelids drooping heavily.  As his eyes slipped shut, he made the deal with himself that he'd clean up later, but let himself sleep more.  He was already slipping from reality, so getting up wasn't something he was even considering.

Ryan kissed his temple, gently, and that was the last thing Brendon remembered.

He woke up, showered, and promptly crawled back in bed with Ryan.  It was raining outside, and Brendon was still drowsy.  They weren't going to go anywhere that day.

The day was a nice one for Brendon to curl up into Ryan's side, lay his head on his chest, and watch movies until it was dark outside.  They did just that.

Brendon could tell from the way Ryan was nuzzling his neck that he was settling into sleep.  Content with this, Brendon reached for the remote of the TV and turned it off.

“I still love waking up together, don't you?” Ryan asked, his voice a hum into the crook of Brendon's neck.

“I love waking up on the brink of an orgasm, that's for sure,” Brendon said, earning a laugh from Ryan.

“I know you do.”  Ryan opened his mouth to place kisses all over Brendon's neck, settling close to his collar bone to suck a hickey there.  “How do you feel about waking up to one tomorrow morning?”

Brendon shivered.  “I would like that.”

“Good. You always feel so nice in the mornings, all relaxed and open for me.  You're such a whore for me, even when you're sleeping.”

“I'm always a whore for you, baby,” Brendon murmured.

Ryan's neck kisses probably would've taken them further if he wasn't so drowsy.  His hands found Brendon's under the covers, and he sleepily said, “I love you,” in Brendon's ear.

“I love you, too,” Brendon said back.

It only took a few moments for both of them to fall asleep, although Brendon was already anticipating waking up again.

His instant reaction upon waking up remained surprise, though, at the feeling.

Face pressed into the pillow, on his knees, and ass in the air, Brendon groaned loudly—Ryan's cock hitting his prostate.  Brendon weakly clutched at the pillowcase, limbs not cooperating due to just waking up.  Ryan's hips were only rocking subtly, the movements small and gentle.

“There you are, baby boy,” Ryan whispered, his voice rough.  “Feel good?”

“So good, Ryan,” Brendon replied, voice breaking off into a moan.

“You sound so pretty, when I fuck you and you're sleeping.  So needy.  Are you ready to come, sweetheart?  I think you are.”  Ryan's fingers curled around his cock, and Brendon's body surged forwards, into the touch.  He was coming within seconds—Ryan's fingernails dug into his hips, as he came, too, filling Brendon up.

Ryan pulled out, and they laid next to each other, not too exerted from how gentle it was.  “A honeymoon was such a good idea,” Brendon said.  “We just get to fuck.  All the time.  And nobody is gonna interrupt us and we don't have to do anything.  I love it.”

“You were right, too, when we first started planning this.  We don't really need to get out of bed, now do we?” Ryan asked.

<<<<<>>>>>

A week of their honeymoon went by, and they only left the hotel once to go out to eat.  Other than that, they were spending their time in bed, day after day.  To be fair, most of the time was spent sitting around and cuddling, watching movies and whatnot, but they did still fuck a considerable amount, too.  Brendon slipped farther into his submissive role as Ryan took the more controlling side of things, which only heightened the amount of sex they had and the intensity of Brendon's orgasms.  Their previous plans of going to tour wineries had been ignored for the time being, although Brendon was still interested in following through.

On day eight of their honeymoon, Brendon decided they were going to leave the hotel and find a winery to tour.  Wine sounded very, very good to him, and it would be a fun thing to do, just to say they did it.  He woke up and got in the shower immediately, to freshen up from the night before, when Ryan fingered him and bit bruises and teeth marks all over his hips and thighs, until Brendon came untouched.

Ryan was still asleep, so Brendon could get away with getting dressed.  He wore a white t-shirt, a pair of black-framed glasses, and underneath blue jeans, a pair of red lace panties—it wasn't like they were going to go all day without having sex—unnoticeable to anyone but himself.  He brushed his teeth and styled his hair, checked in the mirror several times to make sure the hickeys and fingerprint bruises around his neck weren't visible.

He had to cover them with makeup, and could only hope that it wouldn't rain.

All ready for the day, he walked out of the bathroom, into the bedroom, with the plan to wake Ryan up.  But he was already awake, and raised an eyebrow in the direction of Brendon.

Ryan licked his lips and smirked—Brendon knew he was doomed, with how he couldn't resist Ryan, and that  _ look _ of lust Ryan was giving him was too much.

“I don't remember giving you permission to get dressed,” Ryan said, standing up from the bed.  Ryan was still completely naked.

The thought of needing Ryan's permission to do things as simple as putting on clothes had Brendon half-hard again, and Brendon knew it was hopeless.  “I was thinking we could go out today.  You know, check out some wine places,” Brendon said, keeping his cool.

“That would be fun.”  Ryan slipped a hand over Brendon's jaw, cupping his cheek.  “But you've done something naughty, B,” Ryan said, trailing his index finger down Brendon's jaw, then neck, and finally his chest.

Brendon's breath hitched slightly, his nipples getting hard, even though Ryan's finger wasn't that close to them.

Ryan took Brendon by the hips, and roughly shoved him, bending him over the bed.  Brendon moaned—he even loved the degrading way Ryan treated him in scenes like this.  He pushed Brendon's pants down, halfway down his thighs, to reveal the panties covering his ass.  Ryan snapped the waistband of them and said, “Look at these.  You're a pretty boy, slut, but even pretty boys need to behave.  So I'm gonna give you a little punishment for today, my pretty baby.”

Brendon didn't have permission to speak, so he didn't even open his mouth at Ryan's words.  Ryan acknowledged this by petting at the nape of Brendon's neck.  He was rummaging around the drawers of the nightstand, where they had organized all their materials for sex, and Brendon could only wonder what was coming.

He heard the cap of a bottle of lube open, and then close quickly.  His panties were pulled down, revealing his ass, and something plastic was teasing at his hole.

From that, he knew what it was almost immediately.  Ryan pushed the plug the rest of the way in, even though it was a stretch.  Brendon squirmed a little bit to try to get used to the feeling, but that didn't seem to happen.  A particularly hard smack was placed to Brendon's left ass cheek, before the panties along with Brendon's jeans were pulled back up.

“Think you can take it?  I know you can,” Ryan said.

Brendon could.  The plug wasn't pressing against his prostate, so he wasn't too sensitive, even though the plug was wide.  He was very aware of it, and hoped the feeling would pass, that he would get used to it, because he knew what Ryan wanted them to do.

He wanted them to still go out, and leave Brendon with the plug in.

It had been years since they'd experimented with things like that.  Ryan used to put a plug in Brendon right before a show, and have him perform with it in, just to see how much they could get away with.  That always had Brendon extremely sensitive afterwards, which was something Ryan loved.

Brendon took a deep breath, waiting for Ryan to get ready, and wouldn't sit down, standing still.  He didn't want to jostle the plug more than necessary, so standing was the best option.  He was slightly intimidated with the task of keeping it in the whole day, but he knew he could do it, knew it would be worth it if Ryan rewarded him later.

The car ride to a vineyard was rough.  Brendon was hyperaware of every bump in the road, every turn.  The plug was gradually getting pushed deeper inside him, and Brendon kept clenching around it, only making the sensitivity worse.

The vineyard was beautiful, the rows of green grape vines looking stunning, but Brendon was quite distracted.  He would be the whole time they were there.

There was a guided tour for them to take, with a bunch of other people.  Brendon tried his best to stay out of the way at the same time as being close to Ryan's side.  Ryan took his hand at one point, and the simple touch sent sparks through Brendon's body.  Those were Ryan's fingers, and the sensory of feeling them and having his hole full and open went together too well.

They got to learn about the process of making wine, the fermentation of the grapes and how it was aged and everything.  Brendon couldn't pay much attention, it was all sort of jumbled in his mind.

Ryan seemed to be into it, even striking up conversations with other people, which Brendon was torn about.  He wasn't sure whether or not he wanted Ryan's attention, with the state he was in.

The group had the opportunity to taste the wines.  Brendon gulped down his splashes, somewhat carelessly, while Ryan was taking his time.  Brendon couldn't tell if that was on purpose, if Ryan wanted to drag the time out more because of how desperate Brendon was getting, or if it was completely unintentional.

He made it through the guided tour without further problems.  Afterwards, him and Ryan browsed the many bottles of wine for sale, all that were made right there at the vineyard.  Brendon mindlessly looked at the labels, reading them but not paying attention.  Ryan was on the other side of the room, but he was probably okay to pick something out, unlike Brendon.

Feeling useless, he turned around to find Ryan, only to be met with another person right behind him.  They knocked into each other, by strange chance, and Brendon's back hit the wall because of it.  “Oof, I'm really sorry,” the other person said.

“It's fine,” Brendon said, forcing his voice out of his throat.  His eyes watered.  The movement had pushed the plug deeper in, and now, it was brushing his prostate.

His cock twitched in his jeans, and he hurried out of sight of everyone else.  The longer the plug sat there, the only more Brendon couldn't focus, the only more involuntarily aroused he was.

He had to find Ryan, because this was getting bad.  He didn't think he could make it out in public much longer, without getting painfully hard, or taking the plug out, but he knew Ryan wouldn't be happy about that.

There was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, and he could feel it on his chest too, by the time he reached Ryan.  He was breathing through his parted lips, deep breaths, trying to calm his sensitive body down.

“Ryan,” Brendon croaked out, and he didn't mean for it to sound so pathetic, so desperate, but he couldn't control it much at that point.

Ryan put down the bottle of wine he was holding, and spun around at the sound of Brendon's voice.  When he caught sight of him, his reaction was, “Sweetheart, hey, are you okay?”  There was a real, genuine concern for Brendon's well-being behind the words, and normally Brendon would take notice to how sweet that was of Ryan.

Brendon fidgeted, only making the situation worse for himself, and a low moan escaped his throat, quiet.  That was when Ryan realized what was wrong, and his demeanor changed.  He wrapped an arm around Brendon's waist, and Brendon's breathing grew heavier just from the touch.

“Ryan,” Brendon whimpered, “I can't do it, I'm sorry, it's too much—”

“Go wait out in the car for me,” Ryan said, as he stroked Brendon's hipbone through his shirt.  “I'll be there soon.  Don't touch that plug, and don't touch yourself, either.”

“Okay, okay.”

Breaking out of Ryan's touch before he totally fell apart, he scurried out to the car, watching out for people.  He fumbled with his set of keys, nearly dropping them twice.  When the car was unlocked, he practically threw himself in the passenger seat, closing and locking the door behind him.

His hands curled into fists at his sides, his legs spread, and cock rapidly hardening now that he was letting it happen.  He obeyed Ryan, and didn't touch himself, though it was all too tempting.

Ten minutes past before Ryan showed up.  Brendon had been as patient as he could possibly be.  Ryan opened the door to the backseat, placing the bottles of wine he bought there, before getting behind the wheel and acknowledging Brendon.

“Please, Ryan, fuck, please do something, I can't—” Brendon was begging instantly, which only earned him a hard slap on the thigh.  He groaned.

“We’re not gonna fuck in the car, Brendon.  It's a rental.  We’re not that far from the hotel, I'm sure you can wait just a little longer,” Ryan said, blinking at Brendon innocently.

Brendon whimpered again, the thought of combatting Ryan not even crossing his mind.  He just took it, took the slight pain and over sensitivity all the way back to the hotel, moaning and whining the whole way there.

In the parking lot of the hotel, Ryan finally looked over at him.  Brendon glanced back at Ryan as well, but his eyes kept going unfocused.  “Please, touch me, please, Ryan,” Brendon said.

Ryan reached over and rubbed Brendon's nipples, through his shirt.  His back arched, and he cried out a little bit.  “You're such a little fucking whore,” Ryan told him, circling his thumb around Brendon's nipple, “a cheap, filthy whore.  I bet you'd let any guy fuck you just for some dick in your ass because you're that much of a slut.”

Brendon squeezed his eyes shut, Ryan's fingertips relentless on his nipples.  “No, no, I'm yours,” Brendon managed to get out, though it was broken.

“Oh, so now you're trying to be my good boy, aren't you?  But you've been a very, very bad one, and I think I need to punish you for that.”

Brendon moaned, his eyes popping wide open, but he was unseeing, he was so far gone already.

A punishment?  He wouldn't have guessed that five minutes ago.  He just needed to be fucked, needed to come, but Ryan was going to make him wait with whatever he had planned instead.

Ryan handed him the bag with the bottles of wine in it, and said to Brendon, “Carry this in front of you, back to the room, so nobody sees how much of a slut you are, getting hard so easily.”

Brendon nodded, taking the bag even though his hands were shaking.  Ryan guided him to the room, with a hand low on Brendon's back, because Brendon couldn't focus enough to remember the way back.

When they were in the room, Ryan took the wine from him and placed it on a table.  He grabbed a fistful of Brendon's shirt, from his chest, and dragged him back to the bedroom.  Brendon had never felt more relieved to see a bed, and Ryan didn't have to say anything for Brendon to know he was to kneel on it, ass presented.

Ryan hummed, running a hand down Brendon's spine.  Brendon's eyes slipped shut, and he moaned, just from that feeling.  “You're so sensitive.  That's fun.  Just a fuck toy for me to play with, isn't that right?”

“Yours,” Brendon agreed.

He pushed Brendon's jeans down his thighs, took a moment to run his fingers along the lace of his panties, then pulled those down as well.  Ryan brought his fingertips down to brush the plug, but Brendon could feel like slightest touch inside him.

“It's hitting you,  _ right there _ , isn't it?  I know that'll get you going, but you haven't been patient.  You've been too eager, too needy.  So I'm going to spank you,” Ryan said, voice in Brendon's ear.

Ryan tapped over Brendon's arms, and he collapsed down from his hands to his elbows.  Ryan was looking for something in the nightstand, and Brendon knew that meant Ryan had more in store for him.  Sure enough, in a few moments his hands were tied together in front of him, his ankles tied together behind him.  He didn't try to pull against the restraints, not wanting Ryan to notice and make his punishment worse.

“Count it out, slut,” Ryan said, and placed the first spank to Brendon's ass, with his bare hand.

“One,” Brendon choked.  He was so sensitive, especially with the plug still in him.  His cock throbbed and leaked against his stomach.  “Two.”

It began to sting more, and Ryan started talking.  “You know what, Brendon?  You know what I told them?  I told them you weren't feeling well, that you were sick, so we had to leave.  That's what I said, and everyone told me to tell you to feel better.  So, are you?  Are you feeling better now, slut?”

Brendon nodded against his forearms, head dropped to them.  “Yes—seven—this is better—eight—thank you—nine.”

Ryan seemed pleased with that answer, and continued spanking him without anything else to say.

Brendon counted all the way up to twenty, his body tingling, cock throbbing, and ass on fire.  He craved release, needing to come, but he knew he couldn't, again, not without Ryan's permission.

“You took that well,” Ryan said, and Brendon squirmed under the praise.  “What do you want?”

“Fuck me, fuck me, I need you.”

Ryan slowly pulled the plug out of him, while saying, “Your slutty little ass needs my cock?”

“Need you,” Brendon slurred.  He couldn't remember hearing Ryan get any lube, but he knew he must have, because his cock felt so good sliding into him.

Ryan fucked him hard, but Brendon couldn't grab onto anything from having his hands tied.  He just had to take it, and he did, sweat running down his neck and chest, plastering his hair to his forehead.

Ryan's cock hit his prostate, over and over again, causing Brendon's body to jolt every time.  Showing some mercy, giving Brendon some relief, Ryan circled his fingers around Brendon's cock.  Brendon choked on a sob, the feeling being too much.

“You can come, baby boy, you've been so good to me, such a good boy,” Ryan said.

Brendon came before Ryan was even finished talking, and his vision completely blacked out, flashes of color bursting behind his eyes.  Ryan finished inside him soon after.

Brendon panted, even after Ryan pulled out.

Ryan was untying his wrists and ankles.  Somewhere in Brendon's bleary state of mind, he thought Ryan was probably still mad at him for something, for making him leave the vineyard early.  But that wasn't true, that was irrational.

“Ryan,” he whined anyway, “I'm sorry.”

“Hey, shh, it's okay, it's all okay now,” Ryan said.

Ryan eased Brendon to lay on his front, head turned to rest against a pillow.  “I'm going to get you all cleaned up, okay?” Ryan asked.

Brendon made a futile move to get up, but Ryan kept him laying down.  “Don't get up, sweetheart, it's okay.  I'll take care of you.”

Brendon relaxed, always feeling safe and comfortable when Ryan was like that with him.

He felt Ryan's hands again against his bruising cheeks, but it was soothing this time, with cool lotion.  The stinging pain subsided slightly, and Ryan made sure to coat Brendon's thighs and lower back as well.

A few minutes later, Ryan had him roll onto his back, and it didn't hurt to have his ass on the sheets like he had been expecting.  Ryan kissed Brendon's lips, slowly.  “I'll be right back, I'm just going to get you a washcloth.”

Brendon nodded, laying still to wait for him.

Ryan gently cleaned the come off him, and Brendon could feel himself dropping farther and farther off, almost falling asleep.  His eyes opened halfway when Ryan's touches stopped, but it was only to see Ryan crawling in bed next to him.  Ryan enveloped Brendon in his arms, and Brendon nuzzled his face into Ryan's shoulder, eyes closing again.  Ryan murmured something into Brendon's hair, but he didn't catch what it was before falling asleep.

It was hours later when Brendon awoke, and Ryan wasn't in bed with him anymore.  Missing his presence, Brendon forced himself to get up and put on clothes.

Ryan was in the kitchen, drinking a glass of wine and reading a book.  His eyes lit up when he saw Brendon, and he put down his book to walk over to him.  “How are you?” Ryan asked.

“I'm good,” Brendon replied, and it was true—he felt relaxed and at ease more than ever.

“Do you want a glass of wine?” Ryan offered.

“Please,” Brendon said.

Ryan poured him some, and Brendon took the glass.  “Let's sit outside,” Ryan suggested, “I think the sunset will be beautiful tonight.”

It was already that time of the day, and Ryan was right.  The orange and pink glow looked amazing on the water.

They sat on their balcony, chairs pulled close to each other, and drank their wine.  Brendon's ass was a little sore, but it was nothing too overwhelming.  “This is so nice,” Brendon said, admiring the view.

“Isn't it?” Ryan said, but he had been looking at Brendon the whole time, smiling.

Brendon reached over and laced their fingers together.  “This has been the best honeymoon anyone has ever had,” Brendon claimed.

“I'll have to agree with you, there.  Just like our wedding was the best.”

Brendon grinned at the memory.  “We’re married!” He said.

“I know, I'm so happy,” Ryan said, and his voice was small—he really meant it.  “I am so in love with you,” Ryan whispered.

Brendon couldn't have described the feeling that overtook him at the words, the laugh that escaped his throat, of pure joy.  There was a lump in his throat, tears in his eyes, and he whispered back, “I love, love, love you too.”

No wedding vows could have captured that moment.


End file.
